Running
by Terp4Life
Summary: Takes place during the 5 years between when Linden left Seattle after Richmond "cleared up" the Skinner situation and when she came back to see Holder, in the last scene of s4 e6... plus a little bit that came after that.
1. No Goodbyes

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again from the beginning. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

Sarah Linden walked through her empty house, feeling like a ghost. There were memories everywhere she looked, but they were mostly bad ones. She shuddered to think of the things that had happened here. No, she wouldn't miss this house. She wouldn't miss this _city_, either. What's more, she was sure that no one here would miss _her._ Never mind that she had lived in Seattle for her entire life.

As she took one last look around her empty dining room, something told her to bend down to the heating grate in the floor. _The second shell casing_. She picked up the tiny piece of metal that had hammered the nail in the coffin of her friendship with Holder. She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter, that it didn't hurt, not really. She still tried not to think back to that day. The truth was that she now realized just how colossally stupid she'd been – delusional, really - but it was too late. There were some things that couldn't be undone, and pulling a gun on your partner was definitely one of them. She told herself that it had been inevitable anyway. Not the gun, but the end of things between them. Just a matter of time. After all, wasn't it always?

A few minutes later, she locked the door of her house for the last time, got into her car and drove away without a second look. She headed for the highway, bypassing the familiar sights that had made up the setting for her entire life so far. Within an hour she had left Seattle behind her, and she didn't look back. At least, she didn't _intend_ to look back.

The problem was that she saw Seattle – or rather, she saw flashes of her past in Seattle – everywhere she went from that day forward.

When she left town that first day, she had had no plan other than to get away. Fast. Her first instinct, as it had always been, was to run. She knew deep down that that was what she was doing, and she knew that it wouldn't solve her problems, or help her leave the ghosts of her past behind. And yet, it was what she had always done. So she got in her car and drove, with just a few of her belongings – the rest of her things were in storage – and a tank full of gas. Nothing else. No plans. No forwarding address. No goodbyes. It was better that way, she told herself. No, she wasn't running. Not _really_. She just needed… a change of scenery. She'd told herself the same lie so many times, she almost believed it.

Of course, it would have been easier if she'd known what precisely she was running _from_. Or what, if anything, she was hoping to find. Deep down, she may have known one or both of these things, but she refused to admit that to herself. The only way she knew how to deal with problems was to push them away, just like she'd always done with the people in her life who wanted to get too close. It had worked up til now.

_How is this "working," exactly? Do you see yourself, your life? You have nothing, no one, _the voice of reason in her head asked her frantically. But she didn't listen to that voice. She silenced it along with the rest of the questions in her mind. She'd think about that later. Right now she just needed… to get away. To run.

Some weeks later – she wasn't sure how many, having lost track of time when she'd left Seattle - she found herself driving down a lonely, narrow road along the California coast just as the sun was setting over the ocean. The view was breathtaking, with every color of the rainbow swirled together across the sky. She knew that any normal person would have stopped and appreciated the view, at least for a few minutes. And yet, she never considered stopping even for a second. She was looking for something that she hadn't found yet. Or was she still running _from_ something? It was as if she thought that if she kept moving, she could outrun all the unknowns. Surely she would know when she found whatever it was that she was looking for… wouldn't she?

The colorful skies were startlingly different from Seattle and the constant gray, rainy weather. Even after several weeks, she hadn't gotten used to the fair weather during the day and the beautiful sunsets in the evenings. For some reason, on that particular late afternoon she suddenly realized that she hated that colorful sunset, and that she actually almost missed the gray skies.

_What's wrong with me? _she wondered to herself. _No one hates sunsets_. She tried to rationalize it, told herself that the gray skies were more suited to her state of mind.

_That's bullshit_, she thought to herself. No, she had to admit that she liked the view, it was just that the color was something she didn't want to get used to. It wouldn't last, after all. _It fades amazingly quickly, and then leaves everything in darkness. _

_You see the connection, don't you? _the voice in her head demanded loudly. _You don't want to get used to something beautiful because it makes the darkness that much darker afterwards. _She sighed, and begged the voice to please be silent for once. The message was a fairly obvious metaphor for her life, and suddenly she felt overwhelmed and exhausted.

She tried to push the questions and deep thoughts from her mind and drove on into the falling darkness. She preferred the darkness anyway… or at least, she kept telling herself that she did.

As she continued down the scenic coastal road in the now inky blackness, trying to think about anything but her realization about weather and sunsets and her life, her eyes flicked ever so quickly to the passenger seat, as they did from time to time, completely against her will. The seat was, of course, empty, except for her small backpack, and she forced her gaze back to the road. To the now dark sky. To the headlights of the occasional passing cars. To the rocks jutting out from the landscape along the left side of the car. Even staring vaguely into the distance was preferable to looking at the seat to her right. _Anything_ but that empty seat beside her.

_You have no right to even think about him_, she told herself. _Not after how terribly you fucked everything up – just like you always do. You're the one who made the choices that led you here._

Fucking up all manner of relationships was her specialty, after all. It was better to just keep driving, and think as little as possible.

...

Stephen Holder had solved the case. He and his newest partner had even made it look easy. He had had 4 partners in the past 10 months, which was some kind of record at the SPD. He just kept putting in for a new one as soon as a case closed, no matter how well it seemed that he'd worked with whoever he's worked with on that case. The higher ups had their own suspicions about why he was doing it – it didn't take much of a genius to figure it out, really – but he was getting the job done. He'd even started doing things by the book, stopped acting like an undisciplined rookie. No more kicking in doors with questionable probable cause, requesting a warrant for something that he had actually already searched, or asking for a wiretap for a case that had absolutely nothing to do with terrorism under the guise of the Patriot Act. Something had calmed Holder down. It seemed more like a brooding, unhappy calm than a change for the better, but nonetheless, his superiors indulged him.

His most recent partner, Carpenter, was a newbie that he had been put with so that Holder could train him – a fact that Holder found rather humorous. They'd gotten along well enough, but whenever Carpenter suggested hanging out after hours, Holder always found a reason to decline. He claimed one excuse or another, and eventually Carpenter gave up. The truth was, Holder just wasn't interested. He lived alone, and he wasn't interested in making friends. He had just become a father, and his daughter was his whole world. Besides little Kahlia, who he saw as often as he could, he had his NA meetings and his sister – who he'd managed to reconcile with recently - and her kids for company. He really didn't want or need anyone else in his life. It was better that way... Or so he kept telling himself.

Had he become a little bit anti-social? Maybe. And so what if he had? To someone who had known him before Sarah Linden left for the _second _time, it might have seemed that some part of who he had been had disappeared with her, just as suddenly. Or maybe it was just a result of the stress that he had been under during the Stansbury case.

And then there was that whole Pied Piper thing… Linden had said that Holder had had nothing to do with it, but Reddick had his doubts. Those two had been two peas in a pod for that whole investigation – a fucked up pod, sure, but he had serious doubts that Linden had done something that big completely and totally on her own. But he had no proof, and then the murder was ruled a suicide and… well, there was nothing more to say.

So there were some plausible reasons for Holder's change in behavior, and for why he didn't seem to want to keep a partner. Holder was still the same "mystery wrapped in a conundrum," but everyone noticed that _something_ was different about him. Where he had once been more than willing to engage in meaningless banter with his coworkers, he was now all business. He was just… off. Different. But people change, of course, and most people just let it go. It was his business, after all.

Of course, no one would dare suggest to his face that this change might have anything to do with Linden. It was an unwritten rule in the precinct that you did _not_ mention the name "Sarah Linden" when Holder was around. To say that he was still angry with her, now almost a year after the Stansbury case had closed and that whole mess with Skinner had been "cleared up" by Mayor Richmond, was an understatement.

However, unbeknownst to his coworkers, it wasn't quite as simple as just being angry. He tried his best not to think about her at all, and to move on, knowing that those angry thoughts went against the whole "happy, joyous and free" thing he was trying to do. And staying clean was crucial, especially now that he was a father. So instead he went to his NA meetings, tried his best to be a good brother and uncle, worked hard and just generally filled his time with the people who _hadn't_ accused him of betraying them and then fled into the night.

No, he certainly didn't have time or energy to waste thinking about Sarah Linden.


	2. A Special Kind of Delusional

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

As much as she shied away from staying in one place even for a short time, Sarah Linden had to admit that a walk on the beach in Ocean City, New Jersey was not the worst thing she could be doing. The sea air did smell good after so many consecutive days in the car, and the junk food sold on the boardwalk was an interesting change from highway rest stops. Not that she ever ate that much, of course. But that day on the boardwalk, her hot dog and funnel cake tasted good, and she managed not to let the very aggressive seagulls steal any of either one, which was _not _as easy as it sounds.

She tried to remember when she'd last eaten, but as usual, she couldn't be sure. What state had she been in? She couldn't even remember that much. She shook her head at herself, knowing that she needed to do better, but just unable to bring herself to care about such mundane details as food. When she got hungry, she ate. Most of the time she didn't even notice until she'd missed a few meals in a row.

It wasn't something she'd really kept track of in almost as long as she could remember. Since he was a little kid, Jack had always made sure that she knew when it was time to eat, the hungry growing boy that he had been. And Rick, too. He liked to take her out to fancy places, back when they were together. He'd even been a pretty good cook, which was great, because Linden was pretty hopeless in the kitchen. She could handle the basics, stuff that appeased Jack like macaroni and cheese, but never ventured beyond that. Food had never been much of a concern to her. Maybe if she'd had someone to teach her how to cook growing up… but she hadn't.

And then, of course, when they'd worked together, Holder had taken over the job of forcing her to eat. Junk food for the most part, though there had been a very few times when he'd cooked for her. He was a surprisingly good cook, too.

She stopped, her food halfway to her mouth, then slowly put it back down on the plate, her appetite suddenly gone. Where in the world had _that _thought come from? She'd slowly been getting better about letting the past sneak up and ambush her like that, so it surprised her when that thought appeared out of nowhere in her head.

_Well it's junk food, but at least you're eating! And that food don't come from vending machines, so that's two points in your favor! _The thought formed in her head so quickly that there was no time to stop it. She immediately felt a rush of something between panic and annoyance, and shook her head to physically push the thoughts of him out of her mind.

After all this time, he would still occasionally pop up in her head at the most random times. She couldn't really predict when she'd see something that made her think of him, which drove her crazy. _All I want is to forget_, she begged herself silently as her eyes closed. She sat perfectly still for a second and exhaled deliberately, trying to clear her mind. It no longer mattered to her whether or not the seagulls took her food.

When she left the bench where she'd been sitting with her food, it was 1:00 p.m. and oppressively hot and humid. As Linden walked down toward the water, the warm breeze whipped her red hair into her face, despite her trademark pony tail, but didn't provide any relief from the heat. She noticed that a few shells had washed up with the tide, but she stepped around them and kept walking, now moving parallel to the water. She wasn't a shell collector. She didn't really collect anything except bad memories, situations that she wanted to forget.

_I just leave a trail of destruction in my wake,_ she thought bitterly.

She couldn't explain what had brought her out to the beach on this unseasonably warm day. The beach had never been especially appealing to her. Having lived her life in a climate where it seemed to always be raining, she hadn't had much chance to go to the beach. Besides, she didn't have the right complexion for laying in the sun. Her fair skin was covered in freckles even when she didn't go near sunlight, and it seemed like no matter how much sunblock she might cover herself with, she would be as red as a lobster within twenty minutes. All this added up to her not being a beach girl.

It was unusually hot for the New Jersey shore in late September, and Linden felt sweat collecting on her skin despite the heavy wind. She had almost the whole beach to herself, despite the clear, warm day. Activity along the shore always took a nose dive after Labor Day and the start of the new school year when the tourists cleared out, so on the weekdays in the fall it was easy to forget how crowded it had been only a few short weeks ago. There weren't many other people on the beach with Linden that day, and only a few locals in the shops along the boardwalk.

As she walked slowly back up the beach she looked down at her sneakers, which were filling with sand with each step she took. She stopped for a moment and pulled off her shoes and socks, deciding it was easier to just carry them. Besides, the feeling of sand beneath her feet was not completely unpleasant, just unfamiliar. She realized that she kind of liked it, actually. Maybe she'd walk a little farther. It wasn't as though she had anywhere she needed to be…

Suddenly the familiar scent of cigarette smoke wafted through the air, startling her out of the trance like state the ocean had lulled her into. She whipped her head around as if she expected to see… who, exactly? She shook her head at her own stupidity. Out of the tens of millions of Americans who smoke, she expected – hoped? – that one particular one happened to be standing nearby? One who lived 3,000 miles from her current location and had no idea where she was because she hadn't talked to him in… how long had it been? A year? The last time she'd talked to him had been that day at St. George's when she'd pulled a gun on him. And she was somehow hoping that he would just show up here out of the blue, that he didn't hate her – which she knew that he did – and… then what?

_You are a special kind of delusional, _she told herself. She'd thought she'd gotten all this out of her system, but realized to her irritation that apparently she hadn't.

She let out a heavy sigh, and mumbled "Dammit, Holder!" under her breath, slipped her socks and shoes back on quickly, and stomped back to her car. This pit stop was over, and she was running again.

…

Holder looked down at the coffee stained table in front of him and sighed. With as much time as he spent here, he felt as though he constantly watched the waitresses spraying the tables with cleaning solution and then wiping them down with their cloths in between customers. As often as he saw these tables wiped, he'd have expected them to sparkle. But there was something about this place. The tables never seemed to quite get clean, just like food never seemed to taste quite right. It was as though everything about the diner was almost, but not quite, right.

Maybe that was what he liked about it, he told himself. After all, that was pretty much the story of his life. Always trying, but never quite feeling like he was getting things right.

Which was why the fact that things were going well at work lately took him so much by surprise. Somehow in the past nine or ten months, he'd become some kind of magician. He didn't even know how he was doing it lately. It was like all of a sudden, he could just read people better. He solved cases as if they were puzzles and the pieces fit easily together. Could it have something to do with the fact that he spent pretty much _all _of his waking time on whatever case he was working? Well, maybe. But he'd done that since he started at the SPD. That part wasn't different.

_Maybe not_, he thought, _but you know what the difference is. _He shook his head. _No, it's not because she's gone. _He refused to think that working with Linden had been somehow been holding back these super skills that he seemed to have developed since she'd left.

_No, you idiot_, the voice in his head said. _It's not that you're good at what you do because she's gone. You're good at what you do because you learned from the best. No matter how fucked up Linden may have been – and you know all about that first-hand – you can't deny that she was very, very good at her job. Maybe you got lucky and that rubbed off on you. You were definitely a naïve, cocky hothead when you started working with her, that's for sure._

He supposed that he could accept the idea that he'd learned a lot of what he knew from Linden. He stared at the far wall of the diner for lack of anything better to look at, just thinking. He knew that he really needed to get her out of his head. It had been long enough that he shouldn't still be thinking about her, the woman who had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had never really been his friend. Except that it wasn't that easy. Every time he thought that he'd managed to exorcise her from his thoughts, there she was, front and center again. She was just as frustrating in his head as she'd been in real life. _Figures_, he thought in annoyance.

He forced his thoughts onto a different topic, something trivial. Like how did he end up in this greasy diner, again, anyway? He swore every time he came here that he wasn't coming back. Caroline, who was now his ex, had been there with him only once, and after that she had _refused_ to go back. So why didn't this place bother him, at least not enough to stop going? There were plenty of other diners where he could have eaten, after all. Or he could have just made something at home… it's not as though he wasn't a pretty damn good cook. But he spent so much time working these days, there never seemed to be any food in his apartment _to _cook. It was easier to stop and grab something than it was to actually go shopping.

But why _this _diner? _Easy_, he told himself. _It's near work. I know the menu by heart, even if nothing on it is really that good. The waitresses all know me, and sometimes they give me free food. You can't argue with free food! _Those were good enough reasons, right?

_Sure, unless you're going to be honest with himself_. There was that irritating voice in his head again. It was always ready to point out the things that he didn't want to know. No, the real reason he kept coming back to this place was that he'd been there with Linden on so many occasions. Sometimes they'd been pissed at each other, sometimes they'd been on good terms. Most of the time, one of them had been going through something traumatic and awful. That pretty much summed up the whole time he'd known her, actually. It was as though they had taken turns, one day being the strong one, the next day being the one leaning on the other's shoulder, so to speak. Just about every time they'd been in there, he'd been forcing her to order _something_, because the woman did not seem to ever eat if he didn't make her. Dammit, but she was frustrating. She was also long gone, and now he sat alone in the greasy booth, ordering food that wasn't even very good because it reminded him of her.

_Dammit, Linden._

He found himself suddenly wondering if she ever ate anything these days, without him there to make her. _That's stupid,_ he told himself. _Of course she's eating_. _She doesn't need me. She made that much __**perfectly**__ clear._

Sighing loudly, he tried to ignore the stab of pain in his chest as it came and then quickly went. Over time, he'd gotten better at forcing it to go away, he just hadn't managed to stop it from happening in the first place when he remembered that day. He wondered if it would always feel like this, so raw. _It won't_, he told himself, but he only half believed it.

He dropped his money beside the bill on the table, suddenly needing to leave this place and the memories it held. As much as he came here because he wanted to remember, at the same time he wished he could just forget. It would be so much easier that way.


	3. Progress and Disappointment

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

Sarah Linden sat straight up in bed, suddenly awake and drenched in sweat. She was afraid to remember the dream she had just had, so she focused on taking a few deep breaths instead. The clock said it was 3:14 a.m. _Where the hell am I again?_ She looked around her run-down hotel room, looking for clues, still drowsy enough that it took a moment before she remembered what city she was in. Then she remembered. _Memphis._ This week she was in Memphis. The cities were really becoming a blur. All the run-down hotel rooms looked pretty much the same. She sighed loudly. _I guess that's what happens when you can't stay in one place._

She pushed back the thin blanket on her bed and went to the sink for a glass of water. The hotel tap water tasted terrible, metallic, but the liquid was better than nothing. Not a lot better, but she managed to drink a few sips before she couldn't take it anymore. _Gonna have to remember to buy a bottle of water tomorrow, _she told herself, making a face at the aftertaste. She left the cup by the sink and walked slowly back to the bed, where she perched edge and cautiously tried to remember the dream that had jolted her awake.

Closing her eyes, she saw tall trees, like the ones by the prison. And Ray Seward, the man she had put away, the man that she had then tried so hard to save at the last second. Except she that she hadn't been able save him...

Then suddenly it came rushing back to her. In her dream, it had been the day of Seward's execution all over again, except it was all happening in slow motion. When the floor dropped out from under him and he hadn't died instantly, when he'd twisted at the end of the rope and everyone could hear him slowly choking… in real time, it had been agonizing enough, but in slow motion it seemed to go on for _hours. _There she sat, trapped in what felt like a cage, in the viewing area watching a man being hanged for a crime that _she _had put him on death row for, but one that he wasn't guilty of. If only she'd had more _time_, she was sure that she could have proved it.

She grasped the thin metal rail under the side of the mattress with both hands, feeling her knuckles quickly going numb from the pressure that she was exerting as she held on tight to the bed frame. She leaned forward and tried to take deep breaths, but it was if she couldn't take in air fast enough. She knew that she had to calm down, but that was something she'd never been good at. No, she did _freak out _a whole lot better than she did _calm down_. She always had.

It had been several years since the day Ray Seward had been executed, and yet, she didn't think it would ever get easier to think about it. She had been told many, many times that it wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean she believed it. On the contrary, she was convinced that it was entirely her fault, and that it was just one of the horrible things that she had to live with forever. It didn't matter that Seward had been a monster. He still hadn't deserved to die for a murder that someone else had committed.

It took a long time, but slowly, her breathing began to return to normal and her heart stopped thundering in her ears. She began to release the death grip she had on the side of the bed, and looked around the room. For a few minutes, she had forgotten where she was. Her thoughts drifted slowly back to the parts of that day that had followed the execution.

How _had _she gotten through that day, anyway? It was more than a little bit of a blur. And then she remembered.

_Holder._

She sighed heavily and shook her head. Lately, she mostly stopped herself from thinking about him at all, but this time she gave herself permission to remember, just for a minute.

Truth be told, he had been almost as much of a mess as she had for most of the time that she'd known him. Some days, he was the bigger mess, and other days, it had been her turn. Unlike her, however, he usually seemed to know what to say, when to tell a joke… though he _didn't_ always know when to shut up. She couldn't help smiling as she tried to imagine how many times she'd said "Shut up, Holder." But really, almost every time she'd said it, it had been with affection. She hadn't risked telling him, for fear of inflating his ego even farther, but he really had been funny sometimes. Remembering those times was bittersweet, and she smiled sadly as she waited for the feeling to pass.

The day of the execution, he had waited for her at the prison as she'd gone in and out to talk to Seward, then he'd convinced her to come back inside when she'd stormed out upon learning that Seward had lied to her… and when she'd gone in to witness the execution – the last place in the world she'd wanted to be – he'd been sitting there waiting for her when she came out. He'd sobered up by then, thankfully. She'd walked into the waiting room where he was sitting and, well, _waiting_, and she remembered feeling so grateful that he was there, because she couldn't even bring herself to sit down in a chair, much less figure out how to get home.

He'd walked up in front of her without a word, looked down at her intently and he'd realized without being told that she was traumatized by what she'd seen. It was to be expected, really. How could she _not _have been traumatized after watching a man killed right in front of her? A man who was killed because _she _couldn't fix her mistake. The guilt was eating her up, stopping her from even forming words... and he just _knew. _He didn't bother asking me if she was okay. He just knew that she wasn't.

"Linden," he'd said quietly, "let's go." He'd put his hands gently on her shoulders and turned her so that she was facing the door, and then he had turned around to stand beside her so that he could hook one arm lightly around her shoulders and steer her out of that room. His inertia had been the only thing propelling her forward as they'd walked outside and then toward his car. She only vaguely remembered it happening, as if it had been some kind of nightmare. Without him there, who knows how long she would have stood there before she'd even been able to get herself out of the waiting room.

_I guess that's the nice thing about having someone to have your back, _she thought sadly. _Because sometimes you just need… backup. _It was a big admission for her, even to admit it to herself. After all, she was the woman who so proudly told herself that she didn't need help from anyone, ever.

His words from the parking lot earlier that same afternoon rang in her ears all of a sudden. He'd been drunk at the time, but he had been right.

"_We never stay, and in the end we lose everyone." _Her life in a nutshell.

_Maybe, just maybe, I should… NO. It's better – for him – if that door stays closed. But… _

_Damn. _

…

Holder hadn't ever imagined himself walking around the neighborhood pushing a stroller, but here he was, pushing not just a stroller, but a PINK one! But that was fine, his manhood wasn't threatened by this pink stroller. He preferred to think of it as the chariot that his little princess deserved.

Speaking of Princess Kahlia, she had finally fallen asleep after what had felt like _hours _of fussing. Baby girl had been very adamant about telling him _something_, he had just never quite figured out what it was. She hadn't been hungry or in need or a diaper change – yes, he _had _checked, thank you never much – so he'd decided she just had something to say. He couldn't help but think that even when she was crying hysterically, she was the most beautiful baby he'd ever seen. The shrieks that had been coming from her stroller for the last six blocks or so hadn't bothered him. She'd just been expressing herself. The people he passed on the sidewalk, on the other hand, looked at him with a mixture of pity and confusion. They didn't understand why he looked so happy to have a crying baby.

Truth be told, he had been enjoying this trip around the block, out in the sunshine and fresh air, even before she had fallen asleep. "Trust me kid, someday you'll only **wish **you had time for a nap," he had told his daughter jokingly as she had fought loudly to stay awake. Now that his little girl was getting her beauty sleep, well, things were even better. Besides, he couldn't help but notice how the ladies looked at him as he pushed Kahlia in the stroller. Not that he was interested in any of them, of course. He had enough to deal with, and he really and truly didn't need anything or anyone else in his life at the moment. Still, his ego enjoyed the attention.

He had stopped at the traffic light at a busy corner and was waiting to cross the street, ever vigilantly alert to the world around him, when out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw… No, of course it wasn't her. He turned his head to see just a random red-head who otherwise looked nothing like her.

_Get a grip, Holder, _he told himself._ Knowing Linden, she probably left Seattle a long time ago._

He noted that the momentary thought of Linden hadn't made him angry, which was progress. In fact, he actually felt a twinge of disappointment that it wasn't her. Now _that _was definitely a new one! And just what would he done if it _had_ been her? He couldn't answer that question, but it didn't matter because it wasn't her.

The light ahead of him changed, and on he walked, letting out only the smallest of sighs.


	4. One or Two?

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

It was a cloudy, windy day that found Sarah Linden on the ferry from Mackinaw City, Michigan – the very northern tip of the mitten shaped state – to Macinac Island (also pronounced Mackinaw but spelled differently, for some reason she couldn't understand), the small island in Lake Huron that tourists in northern Michigan flock to during the summer months. It was now the off-season, and the ferry was all but deserted. She could have driven across the enormous suspension bridge that also connected the island to the "mainland," but Linden was feeling nostalgic today; this ferry reminded her a bit of the one that went between Seattle and Vashon Island, where she had once lived. The last place she had really called "home." It had been as much of a home as she'd ever had, at least.

From the top deck of the boat she gazed out at the churning water below. The wind blew her hair in every direction, despite the ponytail that it was tied into, but she didn't even attempt to stop it. Today was the anniversary of the day they had been given the Rosie Larsen murder case. The day that was supposed to have been her last day at the SPD. The day that she had met…

It was because of this that Sarah was having even more trouble keeping the ghosts at bay today than she usually did. Today they filled her head and she didn't even try to stop them.

"_So where's home these days?" Regi. If she could only see me now._

"_Dial 1-900-Linden!" He'd been so delighted with himself. "That's not even enough numbers," she'd deadpanned, but she'd been fighting the smile that threatened to take over her face, and she knew that he knew it. Her criticism hadn't bothered him at all. He'd been much too pleased with his own silliness to be bothered by a technicality._

"_Mom, have you talked to Holder?" Jack seemed to ask that every time she talked to him. Why did it matter so much to him?_

"_You're not coming, are you?" Rick. Thinking back now, had she just been fooling herself, or had she really thought that it would work with him?_

So many faces materialized before her eyes as she stared at the water without actually seeing it. So many people whose lives had been destroyed, or at least damaged beyond repair. The Larsens. Mayor Richmond. Bennett Ahmed. Even Jack, who she wanted so desperately to protect, but somehow just couldn't seem to do it right. So many people who had been hurt during that investigation. So much destruction in the wake of Hurricane Sarah. Logically, she knew that it hadn't been all her fault, but it felt that way nonetheless. She closed her eyes and let the wind whip against her face, feeling the sun on her despite the cold temperatures.

One face from her past materialized again before her eyes and didn't vanish in seconds, as the others had. Despite the ghosts that haunted her today, a hint of a smile involuntarily crossed her face. _Holder. _It had been such a novelty for her to have, for once in her life, a real friend. It was a shame she couldn't have been one to him in return. The smile disappeared at that thought, replaced by pursed lips.

As had happened more and more lately, she struggled between the desire to push the thought of him out of her mind, and the need to hold on to it just a little longer. And as always, after a few brief seconds, she forced the thought out. It was just too much. It was easier to run.

The ferry reached the shore and the other people filed toward the stairs to go down below and disembark, but Sarah remained by the railing, looking from the land back to the water. She couldn't decide what to do next, so she just stood there, lost in thought. Maybe she'd just stay on the ferry and ride back across. The ride suited her perfectly. After all, she was adrift on a sea of confusion. Uncertainty. Dare she say it? Yes, _loneliness_. She didn't belong anywhere, and she never had. It wasn't anything new to her, so why did it suddenly feel so much… emptier?

Her vision cleared and she shook her head quickly, turning and walking toward the stairs. She was getting off this boat, and she was going to do something. Run, walk, climb… _something_. Anything to stop her racing thoughts from controlling her.

…

It was raining. Of course it was raining, this was Seattle and it seemed as though it was _always _raining! Murder investigations seemed extra grim when it rained. It wasn't even the rain itself – though it didn't help – but the darkness that the rain clouds brought with them. As if death and the sordid details around the cases that Holder investigated day in and day out weren't dark enough. It usually didn't bother him, but today was an exception.

He steered his car through the end of morning rush hour traffic and parked in front of a block of stores. Lights gleamed in the windows, contrasting with the dark, dreary day outside. One of the shops on this block happened to be a coffee shop that he'd discovered early in his time at SPD, and at which he was a frequent visitor. There had been plenty of days when he'd been in and bought breakfast for himself and Linden. So many so, that it took a long time after Linden disappeared before the people behind the counter stopped asking "One or two?" when Holder walked in. _One coffee or two? _He'd bought her coffee from there so many times, the employees came to expect him to answer "Two."

His intention of stopping for coffee suddenly disappeared. This wasn't a day when he wanted to take a chance that they'd ask him "One or two?" They didn't usually ask anymore, but every once in a while one of them would slip into old habits.

No, Holder was very much aware of what day it was, and it wasn't helping his mood. It was the anniversary of the day that had changed so many things in his life. This same day only a few years before had been his first day on the job at SPD Homicide, when he had stumbled onto the Rosie Larsen case. During that case he'd seen his first dead body – though certainly not his last – among many, many other things that he'd never really wanted to see.

And of course, it was on that day that he had met Sarah Linden. It had allegedly been her last day of work – he was supposed to be replacing her, actually. She was moving to California and getting married. She'd pretty much treated him like dirt that day… and many days _after _that, when she didn't leave. But watching her work… he'd learned so much. The woman had instincts like no one he'd ever seen before.

For some reason, during the crazy ride through that case, somehow he'd grown attached to her. Her tough exterior was just that… an exterior. Deep down, she wasn't _so _bad… some of the time. They'd developed an understanding. She was rough around the edges, sure, but he was too. After everything he'd been through the past few years, he didn't have any friends left, and it was clear to him almost immediately that she didn't have any either. He could tell that she hadn't wanted to like him, that she didn't think much of him in some ways. He didn't let it bother him though. She had come around eventually.

There was a reason she was so good at her job – when she was in the zone, she neglected everything and everyone else, herself included. He had never understood how she didn't even need to eat or sleep in order to function, and even still she was fucking brilliant at her job.

OK, so she had left – for like 5 minutes – when she had _thought _the case was closed, and then fled when it actually was closed. He had hated to see her go, but he understood. She put so much of herself into the cases she worked, she let them consume her. It was understandable that she needed a break. So she had hidden from the world for a while… _**but she had come back. Twice.**_

He knew he shouldn't focus on the fact that she had come back in the past. Yes, she'd come back before, but things had been a lot different. Mostly, things had been a lot different between the two of them. When she'd left the other times, they had been on good terms. It hadn't been anything to do with him, it was all about what Linden needed to do. This time, on the other hand… well, it was definitely still about Linden, and maybe the way things were between them – fucked, in a word – maybe that had something to do with whether or not he would ever see her again, and maybe it didn't. But he realized that somewhere along the way he had actually started hoping that she_ would_ come back someday. His anger was gone, and he missed his BFF.

He wished he could ask her exactly what had happened toward the end of the Stansbury case and the goddamn mess with Skinner to make her so sure he had betrayed her. Why exactly had she stopped trusting him? Had it really just been that damn bullet casing that she couldn't find? He hadn't lied to her before – okay, not about anything _important, _anyway – why would he have started then?

_It wasn't because of you, _he told himself. _Not really. You guys weren't talking much then, and you were both kinda losing your minds. It was just __**easier**__ for her to believe that you betrayed her. It wasn't that she didn't want to believe you, but the idea that someone would stand by her through that kind of shit? It was foreign to her. You know the life she's had. It's how she protects herself. _

He'd watched her break apart before his eyes. Worst of all, he had done nothing to help her, when she was so obviously in pain. He'd let her leave town believing that he had betrayed her, all because he'd been so hurt, felt so betrayed himself. _God, but the whole thing was fucked up. We were so worried about being found out, of going to jail, that we destroyed ourselves._

_But what else could I have done?_ he wondered desperately. _Something…_ He knew now that he should have done something.

He hated the thought that she had run because of _him_. It hadn't been that simple, of course. It hadn't been simple _at all_. And hindsight, of course, is always 20/20. It was easy to look back now and say that he should have done something, when at the time it had seemed impossible.

But he couldn't change any of that now. All he could do was hope that wherever she had run to, she was keeping the demons at bay. He knew all too well what it was like to lose that fight. He'd known her baggage once upon a time, and somehow he doubted that she'd managed to unload it since then. If anything, it was probably heavier.

Of course this time there would be no new evidence to lure her back, no new case to tempt her with. He didn't even have a phone number for her, and he wouldn't have known what to say if he had. This time, she was going to have to make it back on her own…if she came back at all. And knowing Linden as he did, he wasn't sure that was ever going to happen.

Sighing and deciding to skip the coffee and just get to work, he pulled back out into traffic on the rain soaked streets. _I wonder if she's still angry at me_. The words floated through his head as he turned the corner, heading for the station. Maybe someday he'd get the chance to ask her…

And so, life went on. And rain, and work… and yet, somewhere buried deep inside him… hope.


	5. Nothing Lasts Forever

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

An early morning run to clear her head. That's what Sarah had woken up feeling like she needed. She'd slept fitfully, as usual, probably not for more than four hours altogether. She'd long since learned to exist on caffeine and inertia, so it wasn't a problem.

She hadn't been for a run in ages, and it seemed like a good idea. Running was good exercise and it had always helped her focus in the past. Besides, what good was this journey she was on (literally and figuratively) if she dragged all her baggage along with her? She'd crossed the country, looped southeast, looped north, then west, then south again. This week she was in Jacksonville, Florida, but that didn't mean she'd be here next week, or even tomorrow. Whatever it was that she was running from (or to), she still hadn't figured it out yet.

However, she began to question her "good idea" around mile three when she was reminded by her body that she hadn't run in a _long _time. She managed to make it through five miles before she stopped, panting and sweaty. At that point, she was fairly sure that jumping in a pool would not have changed her outward appearance very much. It was just after 9:00 a.m. and already the Florida sun, combined with the humidity, were packing quite a punch. She slowed to a walk outside a large building that appeared to be both open and air conditioned. _Perfect!_ she thought. _I'll just duck inside for a second._

Following a few twenty-somethings through the bare lobby and past another set of glass doors, she was suddenly in what resembled a warehouse turned used book store. Books were arranged on rows of shelves from the floor to the ceiling, with hand written labels on those shelves indicating the section that each held. _The amount of organization in this giant room must have taken weeks, if not longer_, she thought.

Walking without any real interest in what books were where, past Fiction and Biographies and Travel, she admired the sheer scale of the room. She didn't really have time to read anymore, though she remembered reading a lot as a teenager. Losing herself in a book was one of the only ways – besides actually running away – that she could escape whatever unpleasant reality she had found herself in at any given time, whatever cramped foster home she was living in, with people who never even tried to understand her.

Then suddenly, as she reached the end of the first row of shelves, she saw it. There, on a wooden table beside a puffy blue chair, she noticed a book that someone had left laying out. It was a large, hardcover book with a picture of a swarm of butterflies on the cover. The title was simply Monarchs.

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks for half a second.

_NO_!

She would not allow the thought in her mind for even a millisecond. She tried to hold her ground, but the book seemed to stare back at her. Try as she might to walk past it and once again lose herself in the magic of the stacks of books, she could see only that one book. Suddenly, she had to get out of the building. NOW.

She turned around and walked back out of the store as quickly as she could without making anyone think she was stealing from them. Once outside, she leaned her back against the concrete wall of the building, trying to catch her breath. She no longer felt the heat of the day, she only knew that she had to get away from there. There was only one thought in her mind.

RUN.

Despite the heat and how tired she had already been, she ran all the way back to her motel, even faster than she'd run before. She was no longer trying to pace herself. After a shower, she quickly packed her few belongings and checked out of the room she'd been staying in for three days, though she had planned to stay a bit longer. She left Jacksonville behind, and didn't look back.

…

Oh, how Holder hated Tuesday mornings.

Every Tuesday morning for what felt like a long time now, he had been meeting up with Caroline before work to transfer Kahlia and all of the necessities that went with her – a diaper bag and a never ending amount of other small miscellaneous accessories – back to her mother. The worst part was watching as they drove away. He felt his heart break a little more every time, even though he knew he'd see her again in a few days. It was the best arrangement they had been able to come up with, all things considered, but it still stung.

Then it was on to work. Tuesdays were definitely the hardest to get through. His coworkers knew the routine, and generally left him alone, if possible, on Tuesday mornings. It was also no coincidence that he had started going to NA meetings on Tuesday evenings, when work didn't interfere. It helped to fill the void, helped keep him focused and on track.

He often wondered if life would always be like this, if this was all there was. He had to constantly remind himself that _nothing_, good or bad, lasts forever. After all, how many times in his life had he felt like things would never change, and then lo and behold, they had. No, it wouldn't always be like this, he repeated once again. Feeling like something was missing. Hating Tuesdays. Wondering if there was something else he should be doing with his life. _One day at a time_, he told himself every day. Today was no exception. He felt like he said it the most on Tuesdays.

That evening, he let himself into his apartment, dropping his keys on the counter, and looked around. Several pairs of pink shoes were sitting neatly by the door.

_Damn, how'd that kid already have so many shoes, anyway? _Of course, she was always going to be Daddy's Girl, and spoiled rotten. The shoes were only the beginning, and he knew it.

A pink, plastic wagon had been parked by the far wall. It was piled high with various toys, mostly the ones that lit up and made noise as soon as they were touched ever so slightly. Holder had accidentally kicked that wagon more than once, usually while Kahlia was sleeping, of course. He hoped she wouldn't soon pick up the words he used each time he _did_ kick the wagon. Caroline would kill him for that for sure.

He paced aimlessly a few times, before walking to the kitchen to find something to eat. Moments later, armed with a plate of leftover pizza, he sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels as he ate, but nothing caught his attention. This wasn't uncommon on a Tuesday. It was rare that anything on TV could distract him when he felt like this.

Abandoning his empty plate on the kitchen counter, he glanced at the clock. 8:04 p.m. Too early to go to bed. There was a time when he'd have still been working for another three or four hours, at least, no matter what time his shift technically ended. _True_, he told himself, mentally tip toeing carefully around the person that that memory was associated with. _But things change. Good thing I don't work myself to death like I used to_. Though it had been a long time since he'd kept those hours, it was still hard for him to fill his non-work time on the days when he didn't have Kahlia with him. _What did other people __**do**__ with so much time, anyway?_

He paced around the apartment aimlessly for a few minutes, finally ending up in front of the shelf that held his book collection. His "knowledge corner," as he called it. He reached up and randomly pulled a book off the shelf. A smile crossed his face when he saw which one he had picked out. It was that book about butterflies that Linden had picked up when she and Jack had crashed there during the Rosie Larsen case. The book that she had _taken_ when she left his place – without asking him! – and it had actually helped her make a connection with the case, with Rosie. Because that's just how good Linden had been at her job. Something that wouldn't have meant anything to anyone else was a clue to her. He hadn't looked at that book since he had put it back on the shelf when the case closed a few years before.

He sighed, shook his head slightly and replaced the book on the shelf. It was a good memory… but DAMN.

Yep, fuckin' Tuesdays.


	6. Let It Go

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

Sarah Linden looked up from the thick paperback she had been trying to read for the past half hour, sighed, and put it down. There was no point in continuing, because after 30 minutes she still had absolutely no idea what the book was about, or even what it was called. This whole relaxing thing was just not her.

She got up from the oversized deck chair she had been sitting in, and walked to the railing of the large wooden deck. Her current accommodations were by far superior to anywhere she had stayed in so long, she couldn't even remember what she would compare it to. That's the difference between a cheap motel, and renting out a room in a gorgeous vacation house, she thought to herself. But she had discovered that in Maine – North Haven Island, to be specific - during the off season, it was just as economical, if not more so, to stay in a house as a hotel. And boy, was the view from this deck spectacular.

Her gaze traveled across the sparkling water of the lake that stretched out before her, only a short walk from the house. She decided to stretch her legs, take a walk down that way and check it out. The dirt path that led to the water was almost wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and well worn. It split in two different directions about halfway to the small beach at the edge of the lake, one side continuing toward the water, and the other side disappearing between the now bare trees at the edge of the property. Linden decided that since she wasn't in any hurry, she'd explore both.

The distance to the beach was shorter, so she took that side first. Within two minutes she was walking on sand, then taking only a few steps before she reached the water. Where the sand and the water met, she noticed that the beach became a mix of sand and small, smooth pebbles. It was very different than other beaches she'd visited, both back in Seattle and in her travels around the country since she'd left. This beach stretched about fifteen feet from one end to the other with water that lapped gently at the land, making a soothing, rhythmic noise. The sand was just wide enough that a small group of children could have had lots of fun there without having to play on top of each other. She imagined that during the summer, this place was popular with families for many reasons, that being one of them.

_Families_.

The word only stung a little. It was one of those things that just wasn't meant to be. It never had been. She'd never really had a family, and yet, she still found a way to miss having one. Or maybe it was just the idea that she missed. The closest she'd come to having a family was when it had been her and Jack when he was little. But she'd been working most of the time, and not anything close to a good mother.

She breathed in the clear, cool air and shielded her eyes against the sun as she looked across the lake. It was probably a few miles to the other side. It really was beautiful here.

And yet, standing on the edge of it, all of a sudden she had to consciously will herself not to see red blobs floating to the surface like she had on that misty morning when the Pied Piper case had broken wide open. She shivered, but not from the temperature, deciding that she'd had enough of the beach.

Turning quickly, she returned to where the path split. This time she took the other side, curious to see how far the wooded side went. She'd walked for about 5 minutes in the stillness and low light when suddenly she felt déjà vu mixed with dread. Her footsteps slowed to a stop just before a bend in the path that took it further into the trees and out of view.

Just in front of her and down a small hill stood a large tree that was not remarkably different from any of the others in this wooded area. Still, she stared at it for a moment as a memory flashed before her eyes. A _horrible_ one. The memory was of Holder, beaten and unconscious, laying up against a tree very much like the one in front of her, in a wooded part of the Native American land near the Wapi Eagle Casino. That was how they had found him that night, when they'd finally located him. She hadn't known if he had been alive or dead, and for a second her heart had stopped beating. It felt like lifetimes ago now, and yet the terror still felt fresh.

She would never, ever have forgiven herself if he hadn't survived that.

_Funny_, she thought cynically, _I'll never forgive myself for a lot of things when it comes to him._

All this took less than ten seconds to run through her mind, by which time she had turned around and bolted for the cabin. Back on the deck, she collapsed back into the chair she had abandoned and put her head in her hands, trying to catch her breath, but gasping for air.

_Why did this seem to happen to her everywhere she went? _

Deep down she had a suspicion, but she refused to even acknowledge it. Instead, she concentrated on breathing, on regaining her composure and telling herself that what she'd just seen hadn't been real. _He's fine,_ she assured herself over and over.

_Is he? _asked the voice in her head. _And how would you know?_

She sighed slowly and deeply, exhaling resignedly. She knew that she needed to stop doing this to herself, but she just couldn't figure out how. How exactly could she move on when her past seemed to follow her _everywhere_?

The owner of the house, Annette, a friendly white-haired woman in her seventies, came out onto the porch then. She and Sarah had chatted briefly that morning. Linden hadn't really wanted to, small talk never having been her thing, but the woman seemed so delighted to have her there, and she'd given her such a discount on the room, it seemed like the least she could do was talk to her for a few minutes.

"So, how's everything out here?" Annette asked her. The woman's eyes shone with kindness, and Linden envied her for a moment. She just looked so… happy. So content.

"It's really beautiful here," Linden began evenly. "Unfortunately I have to cut my stay short. I'd really hoped to be here until next week, but…"

The older woman nodded with understanding. "It's hard to find time to relax, to find a balance. All the young people who come up here say the same thing. Whether they come with kids, in couples, or alone."

Linden felt guilty for lying to her, especially when she seemed so genuinely empathetic. In a way though, Linden hadn't actually lied. All she'd said was that she had to cut her stay short. And while it wasn't her schedule or a job or other commitment that was making her leave early, it was just… time to go.

Annette's words rang true with her, despite the fact that she didn't know Linden's situation. It _was_ hard to relax, and Linden _couldn't_ find balance. That was a very good way to describe the reason she ran. It didn't cover it completely, but it was a start. She'd never had balance in her life. On the contrary, balance was a foreign concept to her. Whatever the opposite of balance was, that was what Linden had always had.

"Well, I'm sorry to see you go. You are in need of some rest if ever anyone was." Again, she smiled at Linden with such kindness, it took her by surprise. She wasn't used to people being so… nice. It made her suspicious, which immediately made her feel guilty. _God, you're a mess_, she told herself. Of course, she'd known that for as long as she could remember.

Linden stood up from the chair, suddenly feeling the urge to leave as soon as she could. "Thank you so much for having me. And on such short notice. It's beautiful here." Her eyes darted quickly across the expanse of the view in front of them, then back to Annette, who was watching her carefully.

"I'd love to have you back again, dear," Annette told her with the same genuine smile.

Not knowing what else to say, Linden gave the woman the biggest smile she could muster, then walked inside to collect her things from her room. When she emerged again, she saw Annette down on the beach, peering off across the lake. Linden made a beeline for her car, threw her small bag into the back seat, and reversed out of the driveway with a loud crunch of gravel under her tires.

She was running again.

…

Caroline may not have been in a relationship with Holder for all that long when they had split up, but she was very good at reading people. It was part of her job. She liked to think that she still knew him, even though they weren't together anymore. These days she only spent a few minutes with him twice a week, as they were exchanging Kahlia and her things, but she could tell that something was off about him, that something was bothering him. She tried to ask him about it, but he claimed that it was just the case that he was currently working on that was wearing on him. Not sure of whether she believed him, she vowed to herself that she'd keep trying to figure it out. After everything that had happened between the two of them, she still cared about him.

Holder knew as soon as Caroline started asking him if something was wrong, that something must be off with him. It hadn't occurred to him that he was acting differently, but he knew that Caroline had some excellent people-reading skills, and if anyone would notice, it was her. _She would've made a damn good detective_, he'd often thought. Not that he had ever really tried to hide anything from her, which the exception of that whole Skinner mess. He blamed work for any difference in his behavior, even though he knew that that wasn't quite the problem. Not the _only_ problem, anyway.

Of course, he _was_ working on a stressful case, that part wasn't a lie. Actually, lately he felt like his cases were getting to him more and more. Not consuming his life, just… bringing him down more than they ever had before. It was hard to explain. Sure, people told him he was good at his job. But maybe it was just that. Maybe seeing that much darkness, that much death and chaos, was doing something to him. He decided that he was going to have to try and pay closer attention at work and pin down exactly what had him feeling that way.

At the same time, he also knew that it wasn't just about work. Even when he was at home on his days off lately, there was another feeling – not anxiety, exactly – just a gnawing feeling he couldn't explain, one that kept him from completely relaxing. He'd been feeling that way for about a week now.

That evening as he came out of his bedroom at the end of the hall in his apartment, he paused for a second. Looking into the living room, he suddenly had a flashback of Linden standing rigidly by the window in the middle of his apartment, looking like every single muscle in her body was tense. Of course, Linden was pretty much always wound up, but that night she'd about as tense as he'd ever seen her. It was that same night when she and Jack had crashed there. He remembered thinking that it was so cool that she'd trusted him enough to show up with Jack when she'd needed someone. Okay, so she had nowhere else to go, but that was okay. Linden didn't trust _anyone_, but she'd trusted him.

_At least, _he thought with only a trace of bitterness,_ she had at that point_.

_Let it go, Holder_, he told himself. _It doesn't help anything to think like that now. _He knew it was the truth, but it was hard to swallow. _Let it go, _he repeated to himself, and exhaled slowly.

She'd been staring out into the dark, unable to relax, convinced that someone was watching her and that she was in danger. Given everything that had happened after that, there was a distinct possibility that she'd been right, but they'd had no way to know that for sure at the time. He remembered assuring her that she was safe there, and wishing he could convince her that it was _true_. He'd wanted nothing more than to somehow make her believe that she was safe when she was with him.

_Guess I just saw what I wanted to see __**then**__, too_, he thought, with the same bitter edge to his inner voice.

_No, _the other voice in his head insisted, _she __**was **__safe with you, she just wouldn't let herself believe it. You did the best you could for her. Now let it go._

He'd lived in that apartment for a long time before the night that he was suddenly remembering, and several years had now passed since that night. He wondered what had made him think of it tonight.

Even more than that, he wished he knew if she was okay… wherever she was.


	7. Coffee Work Sleep

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

Once again, Linden had been driving for days without stopping to rest for more than a few hours at a time. It was a skill that had come in handy back in the day, if she'd been working an important case, though she knew it wasn't a healthy way to live. Even now, she generally pushed herself until she couldn't help but collapse with exhaustion before bothering to get any significant rest.

When she pulled up outside a nondescript hotel just outside of Austin, Texas, she had just about reached her limit once again, however, and figured that this was as good a place as any to stop for a few days. There was nothing special about this hotel, or this area in general, at least as far as she could see. The street was lined with hotels, fast food restaurants, gas stations and the occasional liquor store. It wasn't especially scenic, and there were only a few people out and about at that time of day. In short, she could have been anywhere.

She went inside and paid for a room, then stopped at the vending machines on her way to the elevator. Tomorrow she would definitely see about getting some real food, but today she was hot and tired and ready to go to sleep, despite the fact that the sun had yet to set. _Thank goodness for black out curtains_, she thought. Checking the small folder that was wrapped around her key card, she saw that her room was on the 10th floor. She shook her head slightly, both surprised and not surprised all at once.

While it seemed like more than a coincidence – she had spent a lot of time and energy finding out what had happened on the 10th floor of the Wapi Eagle Casino in Seattle during the Rosie Larsen case – she was getting more and more used to these so-called "coincidences." Since she had left, she didn't think she'd been anywhere that didn't remind her of something or someone in Seattle at least once in each city, sometimes many more. She took a slow deep breath and pressed the elevator button for the 10th floor, congratulating herself for remaining calm. It was just a floor of a random hotel, after all.

Once upstairs, she took a warm shower and changed into her pajamas. It was 3:30 p.m., but the bags under her eyes told her that it was bedtime. She looked at herself long and hard in the bathroom mirror.

How long had she been running like this? _Too long, _she told herself.

Was it doing her any good? She had to admit that it was likely that it wasn't. All she'd accomplished was putting a lot of miles on her car and staying in a lot of bad hotels. Had she solved any of her problems? She was almost sure that she hadn't.

She didn't feel any more at home here than she had in any other random place where she had stayed in her entire life. As for what she was running _from… _She was _almost_ ready to admit to herself, after all this time, that she was simply hiding. From life. From people. From her problems.

She hadn't consciously realized it before, but when Kyle Stansbury had said it that day in her house, that thought had implanted itself in her memory. "No one is going to find you here, Kyle," she had told him. He had responded with "Is that why _you're_ here? So no one will find you?"

But no, he didn't understand. He was just a kid, he couldn't know that for her, it just wasn't that simple. She had good reason not to trust people. They had so much _power_ over her when she trusted them. She ended up hurt so often. No, she had to protect herself. No one else was going to do it for her - protect her - after all. That had been the biggest lesson of her childhood.

_So here you are, protected from the world. How's it working for you? _she asked her reflection silently. She didn't need to answer, of course, but the empty look in her eyes would have been all the answer that she would have needed. Of course it wasn't working. The only question was what to do about it. She gave herself the tiniest of sad smiles in the mirror, then turned off the light and walked across the room to the bed.

As she climbed into the scratchy, cold sheets, she was already deep in thought. Yes, she was damaged by life, and her childhood had sucked, but the real reason she was hiding? It had been there all along. Shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. And the biggest one: fear.

She winced as she heard her own words ringing in her ears – _"I should've known you would leave me too."_ And then to find out not long afterwards that she'd been wrong about him. _So very wrong. _That he actually _was_ the one person who hadn't left her. Who **wouldn't** have left her.

No, she'd done that _for_ him, without giving him a chance to prove her wrong. Even worse, no matter how far she ran, she couldn't get away from herself. Her demons were going to keep following her, no matter where she went, until she dealt with them. She groaned as she realized that she would have to come to terms with this.

But not tonight. Tonight, she would finally sleep.

…

It was late, and Holder felt like he'd been used as a punching bag, both mentally and physically. It had been a hell of a week. He wasn't sure if what he had been feeling lately was burnt out with his job in general, or if it was just this case and that things would get better now that it was finally closed. He was on his way back to the station to fill out at least two hours worth of paperwork, and then hopefully he'd be able to go home and get some sleep.

Yawning for the fifth time in two minutes, he wondered if he'd actually be able to stay awake that long, or if he should stop for coffee. Yes, coffee sounded like a good idea just then. He'd even be willing to risk being asked "One or two?" at the place by the station. After all, what the hell? They were just numbers, when it came down to it. What people in a coffee shop did or didn't ask him didn't do a damn thing to change anything in his life.

A few blocks before his turn, traffic suddenly ground to a halt. He mumbled a few words under his breath that he was glad that his daughter wasn't there to hear, pounding the palms of his hands against the steering wheel for good measure. All he wanted was to make it to the coffee shop, then the rest of the way to the station and get his work over with. Instead, he was stuck in his stuffy, and frankly funky smelling, car in a long line of traffic that wasn't fucking moving! _Breathe, _he told himself, struggling to regain control. Of all the days to be trapped in his car…

He rolled the windows down, but the air was so full of exhaust fumes from the line of idling cars that it threatened to choke him, and he put them right back up again. This may have been the closest he'd ever come to feeling like a prisoner, and he was in his own damn car. _Just think about something else, _he told himself.

But what to think about? His mind wandered a bit, not sure where to start, before landing on the people in his life. First, Kahlia, the world's sweetest little girl, who was growing up every day. He swore that when he'd picked her up last week she'd been an inch taller than she had been when he'd dropped her off to Caroline the Tuesday before. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd outgrown every pair of those pink shoes that lined the doorway at his apartment. The kid grew like a weed, possibly faster.

Next, his thoughts drifted to his sister, to whom he owed a phone call after she'd left him a message two days ago. They'd been on good terms for more than six months now, and it was a relief. He'd gotten so tired of fighting with her.

The traffic still wasn't moving, so he distracted himself with thoughts of his niece and nephew – how had those kids gotten so _big? _Assuming Liz agreed to it, the next nice day they had when the kids were off school and he was off work, he wanted to take the two of them, and Kahlia, to the zoo. They hadn't been there in years, and they'd been begging to go there for the last three weeks. He was pretty much a sucker when it came to all three of those kids.

Still sitting in the same spot ten minutes after the traffic had stopped, he pondered how he felt about his job. He'd just solved another case, so this was about the time he'd usually ask for a new partner. But really, would it do any good? He'd realized what he was doing, though it had taken him far longer to catch on than it had taken the higher ups at the station. No, it wouldn't do any good to request a new partner, because none of them could measure up anyway. None of them would be _her_.

And just like that, his mind was on Linden. It had already been… what? A few years now since the last time he'd seen her. The day she'd confessed, and he'd watched through that damn two way mirror. The day she'd left her badge behind and disappeared. The day when they'd found out that they could finally stop worrying about going to jail over what happened with Skinner. That had been a relief, of course, and it had helped some parts of his life fall back into place.

But Linden, as soon as she found out that she _wasn't _going to jail after all, had just disappeared. He understood, after all the shit that had happened. He got why she'd vanished. This was Linden, after all. She told him herself back in the day that she'd been a runner. Really, he should've been surprised that she'd stayed as long as she had. That was the thing about Linden… for better or worse, she had always been full of surprises.

He glanced at the passenger seat, and just then the traffic moved forward. _Moving on_, he thought. _Back to reality._

Coffee. Work. Sleep. After that, who knew?


	8. People Watching

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

Linden was sitting in the shade of one of the biggest, oldest trees in Boston Public Gardens, deep in thought. Or rather, she was deep in people watching. The sun was shining brightly overhead, birds chirped happily from somewhere in the nearby trees, and everywhere she looked, squirrels chased each other playfully. It was like she was sitting in storybook. The time was when a more jaded version of herself would have been disgusted by the perfection of it. But she had to admit, it was peaceful. Calming. Tranquil.

The best part of it all was, she was occupying herself without thinking about much of anything, except to wonder about the people strolling by in front of her. It was the closest she'd been to pure bliss in a very long time. After all, thinking too much about her own life was what usually led her down the dark paths in her mind. Being a pretty astute observer of human nature – if, perhaps, just a little overly cynical – she was sitting and focusing all her energy and attention on other people and their lives instead of her own life and her own problems. There was almost nothing she could think of that would have made her happier at that moment.

She sat on a "picnic blanket" that was actually a cheap checkered tablecloth that she'd bought at a dollar store somewhere in her travels. For once, she had thought ahead and picked up a sandwich and a drink – from a deli! Not a vending machine! (The thought _too bad I can't tell him, he'd be so proud of me,_ popped into her head before she could stop it, but she pushed it aside just as quickly, with only a tiny sigh) – and had been happily people watching under a tree in one of the prettiest parts of Boston for the better part of two hours. Or maybe it was three hours… Possibly four. In any case, it was pretty darn relaxing here, which really said something. After all, Linden had been working hard to relax for the past few years, and usually found it to be almost impossible.

This was actually the third day in a row that she'd spent this way, and she had every intention of doing it again the following day. Of all the places she'd been since leaving Seattle, this stop was among her favorites so far.

As darkness descended, she accepted the fact that she should head back to her motel, as boring and generic as it was. She couldn't very well spend the night in the Public Gardens, though it sounded better than her hotel room. Surely the police would have something to say about it, and there was always the chance that it wasn't as idyllic and safe at night as it was during the day.

Still, she hated to leave this magical place to return to another depressing motel room where she would be alone with her thoughts. It was just as bad as pretty much every motel room she'd stayed in over the past few years, and this day had been one of the nicest she could remember in quite a long time. It seemed like a shame to spoil it by ending it in her own company.

_You need to stop thinking that way_, she chided herself. She knew that it was the truth, but old habits were hard to break. It was hard to look in the mirror and suddenly not hate yourself when that was all you'd never known how to do.

The sun was almost completely gone now, and she stood up to collect her few belongings. She would come back tomorrow morning, she promised herself as a consolation for having to leave now. Trudging back to the train station for the ride to the stop closest to her hotel, she continued her people watching game. The collection of people inside the train (or the T, as they called it in Boston) was fascinatingly different from in the Public Gardens, and she was so engrossed that she almost missed her stop.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she had missed it, she thought, unless of course it had gotten late enough that the T stopped running and she hadn't been able to get _back _to her stop. But she tore herself away from yet another round of guessing at the details of strangers' lives, and after a brief stop at the drug store on the corner (because this motel's water reminded of her of the water in Memphis), she made her way slowly back to her hotel.

Back in her room, she changed clothes, washed her face, brushed her teeth and flipped on the TV. There wasn't really anything on, so after flipping through all the channels she left it on some sitcom she didn't recognize. As she laid in bed, the noise of the TV helped lull her into a semi-conscious state. As they seemed to at some point most days, bits and pieces of conversations she'd had with people in her former life, the one in Seattle, drifted through her mind as sleep teased her. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think that she _missed _Seattle.

She had so many regrets about the destruction that she, Hurricane Sarah, had caused in the lives of so many. Those were the things that she mostly remembered, all the ways that she'd screwed up, especially when there were other people were involved. The happy memories were rarer visitors in her head. It made sense to her, because the happier moments in her life had always seemed to be fewer and farther between than the unhappy ones.

When the happy memories did occasionally pop up, she attempted to cling to them. At the same time, however, she felt unworthy of remembering the good times when she'd fucked so many things up so completely. Consequently, these trips down memory lane, even now, years later, could be hard to endure. Having realized all this about herself in the past few years, she was fairly sure that with all of her baggage, if she'd been willing to go to one, she could have kept a therapist in business for years all by herself. She probably could have funded his or her children's college educations. It wasn't going to happen, of course, but at least she could admit that much about herself.

Bored of whatever was on TV, she reached over and turned off the light and the TV before she fell asleep. That night she was in luck. Just as she drifted off, a familiar exchange floated through her mind. On the nights when she was lucky enough to remember good things from her past, this was one of the ones that she remembered most often, probably because it was one of her favorite memories.

"_Holder, I'm sorry. We shouldn't have split up." _

She'd felt so badly, seeing him like that. It was _her fault_, after all. But when he looked at her, there was no blame, no bitterness, no anger. There was just Holder, in one of his rare serious moments.

"_It happened. We're good, Linden. You're still my BFF."_

There had been a long time when this particular memory had stung. After all, it had been what now felt like lifetimes ago that they'd been friends at all, much less "BFF"s. It had made her sad to think about what she'd given up, and especially the way that she'd torn it all down around her. The simple truth was, she missed him.

Eventually, though, she'd come to accept her actions. There was no changing them now. It was what it was. And yes, it was still bittersweet, because it was all long since past. But once upon a time, she'd had a real friend, and that was more than she could say about any other part of her life. He'd jokingly called her his BFF, but she knew that the feeling behind it had been genuine. She hadn't admitted it, but she'd felt it too, and she was pretty sure that he'd known.

Yes, it was all little consolation now, but it was something. If nothing else, it proved to her that good things were at least possible in her life, even if only once.

She didn't know it, but she fell asleep that night with a smile on her face.

…

It was a Tuesday, _again_, which meant that Holder wasn't having a particularly great day. Nothing especially bad happened that day, but saying goodbye to Kahlia, even for a few days, never failed to start his day off on the wrong foot. He fumbled through the day, interviewing witnesses and even chasing down a teenager who _thought _he was going to get away with fleeing the scene of the crime. Unfortunately for the kid, however, he was messing with Holder on the worst day possible. It was all just business as usual, and he was grateful for it, because it kept his mind occupied when he would otherwise have dwelled on other things that he'd rather not think about.

As he usually did, he went to his NA late that afternoon after work. The distraction combined with the support of the familiar faces took the edge off of the unpleasantness that was Tuesday.

At the end of the meeting, when he was chatting with several acquaintances, the group leader, Mike, appeared beside him and asked to talk to him for a minute. They went into the next room, where there were a few padded chairs next to matching end tables, and sat down.

"Holder," Mike began, "I just wanted to tell you how much progress I think you've been making here. As long as I've known you, you've been so dedicated, so positive – all things considered…"

"Thanks, Mike," Holder replied. He wasn't sure if Mike just wanted to compliment his dedication to the program, or if there was something more coming.

"Anyway," Mike continued, "I was wondering if you'd be willing to take on a bit of a bigger role here. There are so many newbies, and they could really use your good example."

"Yeah, sure," Holder grinned. It was a little silly that he was as happy about Mike's request as he was, but he was proud that he thought that much of his hard work that he would ask this of him. His sister still wasn't sure if she wanted him around her kids without supervision, despite what an effort he'd been making with all of them for some time now.

"Cool," said Mike. "I have a few things to go over to get you up to speed. When's good?"

Holder shrugged, smiling. "Whenever, man. Tonight, tomorrow night, Thursday night... I'm around."

"Great! I'm free this evening, too. Why don't we go get some coffee and we can talk." They stood up and headed out, and Holder couldn't help but be excited. Maybe he _could _find more in his life that what he had at the moment.

He arrived home a few hours later, feeling better than he had on any Tuesday in recent memory. The darkness of his day job was momentarily forgotten. It felt good to know that he had a chance to make a positive difference somewhere it was really needed. He'd be helping Mike out for now, learning the ropes of leading the group – he'd been to enough of the meetings to know how they worked, but now he was going to see the nuts and bolts.

The main thing that the liked about his new project was that it was something that he could do to help people – living people – for a change. He couldn't do much to help the dead people whose deaths he investigated at the SPD, and even bringing closure to their families, when he could do it, just wasn't the same. After all, their loved ones were still dead. Being a homicide detective was an important job, of course, but the best he could do was bring people closure. He couldn't actually save them. There was something very appealing about helping people _before_ it was too late for them, and it made Holder wonder, even that first night, if this might be the start of something big for him. Only time would tell.

After dropping his keys on the counter as usual, he went straight to the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator and the cupboards, curious to see what he could make for dinner with what he had on hand. An investigation of the first cupboard didn't turn up anything useful.

_Damn, it's time to go shopping,_ he thought. He'd been cooking at home more and more lately, and he was still trying to get back into the habit of stopping at the grocery store so that he'd have ingredients around when he was ready to cook. As he moved things around in the second cupboard, however, he came across a jar of one of his favorites, habanero jelly.

He couldn't help but smile to himself, because for whatever reason, that stuff always reminded him of the morning when he'd made breakfast for Linden and Jack after they'd crashed there. Linden had never even tasted those eggs he had made for them because work had called, and God forbid the woman stop for two minutes to eat. The eggs had been a hit with Jack, though.

Holder had been a bit annoyed with Linden at the time for not even taking a bite, but now the memory made him smile. Most of his memories of her did, actually. It had taken him a long time, but these days it was a lot easier to let go of the negative emotions than it had been back then. They'd both been different people then, both doing their best with the lives they'd ended up with. It felt so much better to let go of his anger toward her. He hoped that wherever she had ended up, she was able to find the peace that he was finally finding.

He opened the refrigerator and reached down to pull out a carton with a picture of a chicken on the front, suddenly craving the same eggs with habanero jelly that he'd made for Linden and Little Man that morning. Shaking his head slightly and smiling without even realizing it, he turned around to find a spatula on the counter behind him.

Yep, this was definitely the best Tuesday he'd had in a long time.


	9. Chin Up

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

French was not a language that Linden had ever learned in school. And yet, here she was, having just driven across the Canadian border from New York State into Quebec, Canada. It was late, and dark, and only a few people were on the road. It didn't look too different from the New York side of the border, except that the signs held either unfamiliar pictures, or were in French. She knew that "km" meant kilometers, but wasn't too sure how the numbers converted. She had learned it at some point, but couldn't remember, so she stuck to the speed of the few other cars on the road and hoped for the best.

She didn't know what had possessed her to cross the border into Canada, but then, she could say that same thing about the entire last four (had it been _four years?_) or so years of her life. Why start analyzing it now?

In just under an hour, the lights of the Montreal skyline came into view. She crossed the Champlain Bridge and followed signs for "Centre-Ville" (downtown), arriving a short time later at her destination, _Rue St. Catherine_. In the very short time she'd spent on research about Montreal, she had read that Saint Catherine Street was pretty much the hub of activity in downtown Montreal. _Just as good a place as any_, she thought. Not that she was looking to meet people or anything, but at least there'd be something to see there.

Distraction. She'd been thinking a little too much lately, about things and people that she was trying not to think about. Distraction was what she needed. She knew that was she was doing was classic avoidance, but she couldn't help it.

It was better that way.

She found a half decent though slightly expensive hotel just off of St. Catherine Street, and parked her car there. After paying for a room and dropping off her few possessions, she ventured out into the cold night air. She told herself she was going out to look for something to eat, knowing very well that she didn't care what or if she ate at all. The only person who had ever really seemed concerned about whether she skipped meals or not was –

There she was, doing it again. _Nope. Not going there._ She pulled her coat tighter around her and walked faster toward the lights and noise of Montreal nightlife.

Rounding the corner onto St. Catherine, she was met with an onslaught of lights – there seemed to be neon signs everywhere. People crowded the sidewalk in large and small groups, talking animatedly in English, French, and other languages that she didn't recognize. So much life in such a small space. The sidewalks were wide, and the crowd formed a swirling mass, moving in all directions at once. She decided to stick to the edge closest to the curb, where it was less crowded. The traffic on the road was light, probably because everyone was on foot.

Unlike the rest of the crowd, Sarah moved slowly along the edge of the street, observing the activity around her. It was situations like this – watching other people as they hurried on with their lives, where she felt simultaneously the safest and the most alone. She had always told herself that alone was a good thing, and even though she had long ago come to almost believe it, that didn't erase the sting she felt as she watched so many people, all with things to do and people to do them with. _That could be you, if you'd let it,_ a voice told her. She shook her head to dislodge the idea. She had never had a choice. Everyone left. That's just the way it was. Better to do it first and not get hurt.

Outside of a "gentleman's club," which she was surprised to find right along the main road, it appeared that a man and a woman were having a heated argument. They must have had quite a bit to drink, because they didn't seem to care that they were screaming at each other in front of an entire sidewalk full of complete strangers. They both also seemed to be having trouble standing upright. Sarah didn't know what they were saying to each other, but it must have been getting nasty, judging from both the inflection in their voices as well as the astonished whispers from the people around her. Like many other people, she slowed to a halt to see what would happen between the pair.

Finally, they each shouted something that must have been exceptionally rude at each other, and then stumbled off in different directions. The crowd began moving slowly again, but Linden remained where she had been standing at the curb. The argument had triggered a memory that she didn't like to think about, but that she couldn't manage to push away.

It was probably one of the worst fights that she and Holder had ever had – short of the day she had pulled her gun on him and accused him of betraying her, of course.

In a flash, she was back in that car with him, the vile words coming out of her mouth, no matter how she tried to hold them in. _"I was wrong about you. You're just a fucking junkie like the rest of them." _

And Holder, who knew exactly what buttons to push with her, replying, _"How's Jack doing by the way? Aren't you supposed to take him to the airport now?"_ Which of course, she was, and she had forgotten.

More heated words were exchanged between the two of them, before they finally parted, with Linden screaming _"Fuck you!"_ and Holder replying _"Yeah, fuck you too!"_

She came back to the present and realized that she was still firmly planted in the same spot where she'd been standing for the past few minutes. With great difficulty, she forced her feet to continue walking, but she was shaken from the flashback. _When will this stop?_ she wondered. Her brain tried to insert logic about running from something inside your own head, but she dismissed it without allowing the thought to form. Without even realizing it, she walked until the noise and lights of the Montreal nightlife died down behind her. That was when she realized that she didn't know a thing about this city, or this street, and where a good area would turn into a bad area.

She came to a stop, looking around at the dark buildings around her. _I should probably turn around about now_, she told herself. Instead, she saw an alcove near the entrance to the building in front of her, and she walked over and leaned her back against the smooth stone of the building wall, sinking down to the ground. She sat, knees folded in against her chest and her head hanging down almost to her knees. _It doesn't matter where I go_, she thought in defeat. _Nowhere is any better than anywhere else. Not when you're running from what's in your own head._

Suddenly she heard heavy footsteps, and smelled cigarette smoke. She looked up to see a figure in a dark hoodie standing in front of her, his face obscured by shadows.

_Wait a second…that can't be…_

"Eh, madame, ca va bien?"

_Ohhh, French_, she thought_. _Nope, she was mistaken once again. Sarah looked up and tried to smile, her expression and her voice both apologetic. "I'm sorry, I don't speak French," she replied tiredly.

"Uh, miss, are you OK?" the man asked again in heavily accented English. He had stepped out of the shadow and now appeared to be in his early twenties, and of course, he looked nothing like Holder. He was clean shaven, his hear was close cropped and he wore a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, thank you. Just not a good day." Sarah decided it was time to get up and head back down the street, before her night got any worse. She pushed herself up and quickly took a few steps past him.

"Miss, whatever it is, I think… it will be OK," the young man said kindly. She turned around and managed a smile at him. "It will pass," he added.

_He's so young. It's all so simple when you're young_, she thought sadly_. _

"Thank you. Merci," she replied, trying not to look as miserable as she suddenly felt. She took about ten steps, then looked over her shoulder to see if he was still behind her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She decided that this was just another of the many, many coincidences that she had encountered since leaving Seattle. It had become almost a given, and she was tired of fighting it tonight. She walked back down Rue St. Catherine, rounded the corner and found her hotel. It was time to call it a day.

…

His cell phone started ringing as he unlocked his apartment door. He pushed the door closed behind him, threw his keys on the counter and fished his phone out of his pocket. The display said _Jack._ He plopped down on the couch as he flipped his phone open and held it up to his ear.

"Hey, Little Man! Long time no talk!"

"Hey, Holder."

"What you been up to?"

"Ya know, school. I got a part time job, too. At the shoe store in the mall."

"Yeah? You like it?"

"It's OK." Jack paused before continuing. "Anything new with you?"

"Haven't heard from her, Little Man."

"Oh, OK. Just figured I'd ask." Holder could hear the disappointment in the boy's voice. He understood it all too well.

"Hey, _you_ talked to her recently, right? In the last few weeks?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"And how was she? OK?"

"Yeah, it was last week. I think she was in… Boston? Or maybe that was the last time…" Holder could hear the frustration in his voice, and Jack's sigh at the other end of the line.

"Little Man, you don't worry about your moms, OK? She's alright. She's gotta do what she's gotta do. She's just gotta figure it all out before she can settle down somewhere. Take it one day at a time, OK? It's all good."

"You think so?" Jack didn't sound convinced.

"Your moms is the strongest person I know. Nothin's gonna happen to her. I'm sure we're gonna see her soon. Both of us. OK?"

"Yeah, I guess." He _definitely _didn't sound convinced.

"That's what I'm talkin' about. Hey, you coming back to Seattle one of these days? Haven't seen you in like twenty years!"

"Holder, I'm not even twenty years old!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, youngin! But one of these days we'll hang out, OK? Promise?"

"OK, Holder. Hey, I gotta get going. Gotta go to work in a few minutes."

"Alright, Little Man. You hang in there, OK? Chin up. And call me anytime."

"Thanks, Holder. Bye."

"Later, Little Man."

Holder snapped his phone closed and dropped it on the couch beside him, leaned back on the couch and sighed. He wished he felt as confident as he had been with Jack. _One day at a time_, he told himself. _Have faith._


	10. It's Not Too Late

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

_A/N: This one's a little cheesy, so I apologize, but Linden needs to get in touch with her feelings and all that, so... Oh, and it makes me cry every single time I read it (I kinda like cheesy sometimes)._

It had been three weeks since Sarah arrived in Chicago. She'd gotten to spend time with Jack for the first time in quite a while, which had been good for her. No, she hadn't been the best mom to him when he was growing up, and even as a teenager she hadn't really been there for him, but she had missed him terribly since he'd moved in with his dad. He had grown into such a gentleman, and she was so proud of him. It still amazed her that he was in _college_!

Still, Chicago wasn't her home. She had had a lovely visit, but it was time to move on. Three weeks was the longest she'd been anywhere in the past five years, and she was beginning to feel restless. She hadn't quite decided where she was going next, but she was thinking of heading west. It would be the first time she'd been west of Chicago in nearly five years. Maybe it was time.

…

"Mom, you should call Holder. He misses you."

"Jack, he didn't say that."

"I can just tell."

"You know it's not that simple…"

"Mom, I can just tell. The same way I can tell that you miss him."

She'd sighed then, because what could she say? The kid was _far _too wise and far too observant for his age.

…

Jack's words from the previous day rang in her ears as she packed up and checked out of her hotel room that morning. It seemed so simple to Jack… But he didn't know the whole story, how much more complicated it was than that. She knew that Jack had kept in touch with Holder, though she didn't know how often they talked or what they talked _about_. The one thing she _did _know was that he hadn't divulged anything to Jack that she wouldn't want him to about the past. After all, he hadn't ratted her out to Reddick when Reddick had been pressuring him to confess, not even to save himself from going to jail. There was no way he was going to tell Jack anything he shouldn't.

_Oh, now you trust him? A bit late, don't you think?_ She winced slightly, knowing that it was the truth. Could've, should've, would've… they didn't help her now.

It made her happy and sad at the same time (and maybe a tiny bit jealous, which, of course, made no sense) to think about Jack and Holder having stayed in touch. Like everything in her life, it was just too much to sort out. She just had to let it go.

That morning Linden met Jack for breakfast at a coffee shop downtown. She marveled once again at how much he had grown in the past few years. Jack, of course, had become more than a little bit familiar with the sentimental look on her face over the past few weeks. "Mom, _stop_!" he groaned. He knew she was going to cry when she left. He wondered if he would too. Since he'd spent so much time wondering where she was and if she was OK over the past few years, he'd come to feel very protective of her. Sarah just smiled. So many things in her life were so hard, but against all odds she still had Jack, and he had turned out better than she ever would have imagined, despite having had her for a mother.

Though she hated to leave, eventually the time came for Jack to get to class. She hugged him tightly, suddenly regretting that she had decided to leave Chicago, and promised that they'd see each other again soon.

"When?" Jack had asked. They'd work that out later, she'd promised. She didn't really have a plan, which didn't surprise Jack at all. He stood on the sidewalk and watched her walk down the street towards her car, not moving until she turned the corner a few blocks away. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Wasn't she supposed to worry about him?

Linden looked straight ahead as she walked down the sidewalk to her car. She desperately wanted to look back and see Jack's face one more time, but she didn't want him to see her crying. He already worried about her far more than he should. It was supposed to be the other way around! As soon as she stepped around the corner, she stopped and leaned against the side of the building, taking a deep breath and composing herself before she continued walking.

Jack sighed and turned to cross the street along with the throng of morning pedestrians. _One day at a time_. That's what Holder had said.

Linden was about an hour outside of the city when she stopped at a gas station. She reached into her purse for her wallet, and her fingers found an unexpected envelope. Puzzled, she pulled it out to find "Mom" scrawled across the front in Jack's somewhat legible handwriting. _What is this kid up to?_ she wondered. In any case, it was a thoughtful surprise.

She was a little taken aback when she opened the card, which had a picture of a sunrise and no text on the front, to see that he had filled the entire inside with writing, which also spilled onto the back side of the card. _What's all this? _she wondered, still shocked by what she held in her hands. Her eyes scanned the words quickly, and what she read took her breath away.

_Dear Mom,_

_I know I'm your kid, and it's weird to think about giving you advice. I'm sure it's just as weird for you, too. But we've never been a normal family, and there's a few things I think you should know._

_First, I know you don't want me to, but I worry about you. You're the tough cop, even now that you're not a cop anymore. You don't let anybody mess with you, and that's awesome. But you don't need to prove anything to anyone. Everyone needs someone sometimes, and I don't want you to go through life alone. I guess what I'm saying is… You need to let someone in. It wasn't Regi, or Dad, or even me. But mom, you don't have to do it all on your own. No one should have to do that. I know you're scared – it's ok to admit that. __**You **__taught me that. And yes, bad things can happen when you get close to people. But good things can happen, too. You taught me that it's ok to be scared. If you're not scared, you can't be brave. And you're the bravest person I know._

_Second, you might not realize it, but there was a time when you were happy. It wasn't all the time, of course, there's always stuff that pisses people off. And you can't deny you get __**really **__pissed off, mostly because you care so much. Do you wanna guess when the time was when you were happy, or should I tell you? I guess I should probably tell you, since I'm sure you'll say you have no idea… I don't think you'd know happy if it bit you on the nose._

_I'm sure you don't realize it, but you were happy when you worked with Holder. Yes, really. I know you two got pretty darn pissed at each other sometimes, and I know, you were just partners, nothing else. It didn't matter. You were happy when you were with him, whether you realized it or not. Which was amazing because you were working a depressing as hell job, investigating dead people and putting your lives in danger basically every day. I know that the idea of happiness is like a foreign concept to you, so I figured you needed someone to identify it for you._

_Don't get me wrong, your job sucked. And you let yourself get too involved, like you always do, and you forgot about me. A LOT. I'm not mad about that last part. I mean, I was at the time. But I look back now, and I know that you did your best. As for letting yourself get too involved, it was the way that you showed you cared. I didn't understand it then, but I know you were doing the best you could to make the world safe. For me, and for everyone else. That's like, what superheroes do._

_You should know how often Holder has told me over the years how amazing you were at being a cop. Yes, I know that you know I still talk to him. Do you know he's the only guy you ever hung around with that I ever liked, even a little bit? And I liked him a LOT. I still do. He was the only one who never saw me as being in the way, like all the rest of them. He saw me as a person. And he cared - about both of us. He still does. _

_Mom, you can't run forever. I know you're scared, and you feel like it's too late. But remember when I left for Chicago the first time, how you told me I was so strong? I'm strong because of you, mom. I'm strong because you taught me how to be, because you are too. You push people away because you're scared, but you don't have to be. You've had a lot of shitty luck in your life, but you have to believe me when I say that not everyone is going to leave. I'm far away, yes, but I'm always here. And deep down I think you know that Holder wouldn't either. He's been there for me for as long as we've known him, whether you guys were on speaking terms or not._

_I know that none of this is my business, but I'm not a little kid anymore. And I know you're thinking that I don't understand, and that it's complicated. BUT IT'S _**NOT**_. _

_I thought maybe I should tell you this stuff, because I think you really needed to hear it. Just please think about it. I know you feel like it's too late, but I promise you, it's not._

_Love,_

_Jack_

Linden rested her forehead wearily against the steering wheel. Tears had started forming in her eyes by the time she was halfway through Jack's message. How did her little boy get so grown up? And how was he so wise that he could see _exactly_ what she was thinking?

She rarely ever sent texts, since her phone was so old and texting took so long, but at that moment she pulled out her phone, and typed out a text to Jack. Simply, "_I love you." _He could apparently read her mind, so there was no need to say any more than that.

It was time to go somewhere and think. Linden was actually feeling tired of running for the first time in five years. Did that mean something? Consulting one of the many, many maps from her collection in the backseat (GPS? Why bother?), she quickly decided where she was going next, at least for a few days. Then she finally located her wallet and filled the car with gas, all that time repeating her son's words in her head and wondering if he could be right. Was it possible that it _wasn't_ too late?

She had another very long drive ahead of her, and she was leaving immediately.


	11. A Tiny Speck in the Universe

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

It was just before 7:00 a.m. and Linden stood at one of the overlooks along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The sun was rising, transforming the sky into a masterpiece that changed by the second. The view was breathtaking. It reminded her of a sunset she'd seen in California almost five years before, one that she hadn't been able to stop to see, because the noise in her head had been so deafening that it was all she could do to tune everything out and keep driving. She'd become an expert at quieting that noise since then, but today she was going to give the voices permission to speak again.

She had asked a park ranger which of the overlooks tended to be the least crowded, figuring that none of them would have a _bad_ view, but hoping for as much solitude as possible. And now, here she was, with not another soul in sight and the most spectacular view she'd ever seen.

After standing by the railing for a while and watching the sunrise, she found a large rock nearby that had a flat top which would make a perfect seat. She was hoping to be there for a while, because she had a lot to think about.

She had decided that today, finally, she was going to embrace her demons. If she was going to do it anywhere, a seat facing the wide open expanse of canyon that stretched out before her was as good a place as any. It was enough to remind anyone of their insignificance in the universe. She was an expert at blocking things out, but after the past five years of running without getting anywhere, she had decided that it was time to stop and re-evaluate that technique.

It had been a long, strange trip, and Jack's card had been a nudge in the direction that she had already been leaning, but hadn't quite admitted it to herself. She was still terrified, but she was determined to try. The alternative was to continue living the way she had been. Though she had chosen it, she didn't like it. It hadn't felt like a choice at the time, because she hadn't been able to see any alternative.

She took a deep breath, looked at the view, and let her mind drift.

"_You sure you wanna do this?" _She was back in the car with Holder outside of the Wapi Eagle Casino.

The "this" Holder was asking her about was breaking into the casino almost immediately after Holder had been released from the hospital. The last time they'd been there, they'd both been lucky to escape with their lives. She knew exactly what the chief and her underlings were capable of, and what they were willing to do to keep their secret, and yet she had no intention of backing down. If anything, it made her more determined. Holder should have been at home resting, that much was for sure, but if she was going to the casino, he was, too. This was definitely not a smart chance to be taking, and they both knew it.

"Yeah."Linden had never shied away from a chance to find the truth, no matter what danger she put herself in or what rules she broke, and now was no exception.

"Let me go instead," he'd said to her.

_He had volunteered to go into the casino in my place._ She focused on that for a minute. _There was Holder with severe injuries, and he had wanted to go into almost certain danger in my place._ She shook her head in disbelief. She had been so distracted that night, she had not understood the magnitude of his selflessness. He had been trying to protect her, no matter what the danger was to him. There was no other explanation.

When she _had_ snuck in the back door, expecting him to wait in the car, he had walked in the front and created a spectacular distraction that allowed her to get upstairs undetected. She sighed, taking in the full impact of all this. He would not have done it if he didn't care. The familiar panic began again, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself. She knew this was only the beginning.

The next memory was Reddick.

"_I offered Holder a deal… I figured he'd be the weak link, with the baby coming. Not you, Sarah… He told me to go fuck myself in the rear end."_

She smiled then. She had thought that was when Holder had turned on her, when in reality he had told Reddick to go fuck himself. He could have chosen to save himself and sacrifice her, **but he hadn't.**

_I should've known, _she thought to herself for the millionth time. _I knew him better than that. Why did I assume that?_

_You were scared,_ said the voice in her head. _It was easier to believe that he would leave. It wasn't even really about him. You just had no previous experience to suggest that anyone would be that loyal to you._

Suddenly, they were in Gil's storage unit, looking at each other across mounds of boxes of junk.

"_You OK, Linden?"_

"_I'm fine."_

"_You know you… you can talk to me, about whatever. If you want. I'm here."_

"_I know you are."_

She had said that she'd known, and she hadn't thought he was _lying_, but she still hadn't _really_ believed it. While logically she _had_ known he would have been there for her, she wouldn't have opened up to him if there was any way to avoid it. She sighed and shook her head at herself. _Sarah, you could have…_

The next one was hazy. She had been pumped full of drugs in the psych ward at the time.

"_Please don't leave me here."_

"_I'm gonna get you outta here. Just hang tight for a couple hours. I'm not leaving you in here. You hear? I'm not leaving you here."_

She looked down at her hands and sighed. Oh, the things he had done for her. She had never asked him to do most of them, but he had done them anyway. The familiar twinge tugged at her heart. The one she usually pushed away, but this time she didn't. This time she let it run its course. Why had he done that? Any of it? She certainly didn't deserve it…

The memories were coming fast and furious now that she had given herself permission to remember. _This is what I'm here for_, she thought to herself. _The only way through it is through it._

"_Everybody thinks I'm some piece of shit tweak head. You seem to think I'm something better."_

"_Yeah, you're a 1-900-ROCKSTAR"_

This was another one that made her smile. They had fought a lot over the years, especially in the very beginning and the very end, but she was glad that she had seen the good in him when other people hadn't. Everyone deserved that.

Of course, that thought was followed a split second later by the knowledge that she had betrayed him in the _**worst**_ way, after he'd seen the good in _her_ when no one else had.

She allowed the thoughts to come. Today was the day _not_ to push them away. That hadn't worked.

There was no changing any of it now - she had done what she had done. Either he had forgiven her by now, or he hadn't.

"_It's you and me, Linden. We're on the same team, remember?"_

Then her biting reply. _"Are we?"_

She took a deep breath. It had been an emotional time, she reminded herself. Then again, it had _always_ been an emotional time in that job. Still, she hated that she had doubted him, and that she hadn't just done it once. But there was nothing to be done about that now.

"_I would've been a lot better off on my own."_

"_I'm sorry Linden, I fucked up OK?"_

Why was it that she had been so quick to judge him? Because it was safer. It had always been safer to be on her own.

"_I don't want her to be alone all the time. I guess I just wish she still had someone to talk to."_

Jack. Her Jack. Worried about her. She could feel the tears prickling her eyes. It was supposed to be the other way around. He had been right about all of it. She owed it to both of them to try.

…

She looked up to see that the sun was now high overhead. That alone told her that she had been in that spot, thinking, for quite a few hours. Her watch told her that it was almost 11:30 a.m. She stood up and stretched, walked back up to the railing. She looked out over the deep canyon in the land before her. She was already mentally exhausted, but in a way, she felt lighter.

Did she dare think about what was next? She was working towards something with this self-help session… but could she really do it? Could she really go back to Seattle? She pulled Jack's card out of her jacket pocket and read it again, leaning on the railing and looking into the abyss in front of her.

"_I know you're thinking that it's complicated. BUT IT'S _**NOT**_." _She reread that line over and over again, until she repeated it like a mantra.

_It's not complicated_, she told herself. _It's not complicated._

Suddenly, she needed to walk. She pushed herself back from the railing and headed for a path that wound off among the rocky underbrush. She told herself she wasn't going to walk too far. It would be a shame to get lost in the wilderness at the end of this five year journey.

She'd gone about a mile when she spotted something shiny in the dirt on the ground, and bent down to pick it up. It was a plastic key chain covered in dust. She brushed it off to reveal one sentence. _"Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time." –Maya Angelou_." She wasn't sure why, but she brushed the rest of the dust off of it and put it in her pocket. It may have been cheesy, but Maya Angelou may have been onto something. And right now, she could use all the cheesy inspirational good luck charms she could get.

With that, she turned around and headed for her car, throwing one more glance over her shoulder at the ancient chasm in the rocks that she was leaving behind. People said that this place made them feel like tiny specks in the universe, but for her first time in her life, Linden felt like she might be something _more _than a tiny speck in the universe. It was terrifying, and yet, she'd never felt so determined.


	12. Darkness and Solitude

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

Jack had sent Holder a strange text earlier that week. All it said was _Throwing a Hail Mary. Fingers crossed_. Little Man was up to something, and Holder had a suspicion it had something to do with Linden. _I guess we'll see_, he had thought.

That Friday night, Holder didn't feel like staying in. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going or what he was looking for, but he drove through the city streets as if he did. He felt like he was on auto-pilot. Before he knew it, he had parked his car near Biltmore Pier, at the same place where they had found Linden after she'd been kidnapped by "Pastor Mike," and not far from where she had prevented him from becoming road kill before that.

There wasn't much of a view of the river because of the dark, but he walked to the end of the ramp, where it dropped off, and sat down. He hadn't expected to find her there of course, but somehow this place – like that greasy diner, the police station and so many others – made him feel like she was almost there with him.

There was something about the darkness and the solitude here, and for a split second he thought it seemed like a place Linden would like. He immediately laughed at himself for thinking this, because Linden would definitely _NOT _have liked the view, considering how she ended up here last time.

Still, he didn't mind it here. After all, this was the place where he had found her, and where he had learned that she was safe. The relief at finding her there, alive, had been overwhelming, after the hours he'd spent feeling powerless to help her. It was a feeling he wasn't used to. He was used to being the one person who _could_ help her. They hadn't been just partners by then, they were friends. BFFs, as he always told her, which made her smirk.

He thought back to when he had finally seen "Pastor Mike" in handcuffs, when he had seen Linden fall to the ground with relief and exhaustion. He did the only thing he could do - sit beside her and rub her shoulder. She generally didn't like to be touched at all, but in this case, it had been the right thing to do. He couldn't have left her there, feeling like she was alone.

"_If another person asks me if I'm alright, I swear…"_

"_Well are you alright?"_

"_Yeah, …I'm fine."_

"_Thought I lost you there for a second. Just when I was getting used to you. That was scary, huh? …I should've gotten there sooner."_

"_But you got there. You found me."_

Linden was still a mystery to him, even after he'd had five years to try to figure her out. But it seemed to him that though she was always trying to hide, she wanted to be found. To be proven wrong. She couldn't actually _want_ to be alone – could she? There were some people who enjoyed being alone, sure, but she didn't seem to be one of them. She'd just been through so much because of people who'd failed her when she needed them, and that was how she coped with it.

For almost as long as he'd known her, he had wanted to help her. A lot of the time he couldn't figure out why. She was not the nicest person to be around some – OK, a lot – of the time. But then again, neither was he. Maybe that's why they worked so well together. Most of their apologies had been unspoken. It had been clear, maybe not to anyone else but him, how very much she had needed him – even if she hadn't been able to admit it… or even if she hadn't been aware of it herself.

He had messed up his own life so badly before he met her, and it had felt good that someone needed him again, even if it had been against her will. Sometimes she had just needed someone to make her eat, simple as that. Still, it had been nice to be needed. It had been nice to be around her, even when it hadn't been so nice… _Damn, Holder, you're not making any kind of sense!_ he told himself with a smile.

Memories of Linden kept coming back to him. It wasn't the first time that he'd thought of her in the past five years, but this time he surrendered to it.

She and Jack had showed up at his apartment. He knew it had only been because of her desperation and fear, that she really had nowhere else to go, but she had trusted him enough to show up. Him. The one that so many other people looked at with disdain, including his own sister a lot of the time. Linden had been distracted and worried and hadn't even tried the breakfast he'd made for them… but still, she had come to him for help.

"_Trust me on this, Linden. You're safe. No one ever comes around here, not even Jehovah's Witnesses."_

He knew he hadn't taken away her worry – worry which had been warranted, as they later discovered – but he did his best. At least _he_ could know that she and Jack were safe, and give them a little bit of a distraction for a night.

"_I have this friend, and she needs me. …I have to see this through."_

That had been part of the message he'd left his sister, the day Jack had suddenly gone missing.

He had watched Linden almost lose her mind that day, and understandably so. She was one strong woman, but that was too much even for her. Once again he had been powerless to do anything. All he could do was go with her on her search, and grip her tightly when she had nearly gone crazy, thinking that the teenage boy they'd found dead was Jack. But it hadn't been him, and eventually Jack had turned up.

Despite what a horrible day that had been, there had never been a question in his mind that he had made the right decision by not leaving her side. He had missed Davey's school parade and Liz had been pissed at him, but it had been the right thing to do. He was realizing that there wasn't a lot that he _wouldn't_ have done for Sarah Linden.

The day Jack had left for Chicago had been another rough one. As soon as he found out that the kid's flight was leaving that day, he knew that Linden was going to be in a bad place. He remembered checking himself out of the hospital – to the _extreme_ displeasure of the entire nursing staff at the hospital - as soon as Jack had called him.

She'd been standing by the window next to the gate been found her. Little Man had already gotten on the plane. He remembered walking up beside her and watching her work so hard not to break into a million pieces. It had always been amazing to him how one person could be so strong, and yet so fragile at the same time. Again, she'd let him put an arm around her shoulder without protest, jokes or sarcasm, which was how he knew how much she'd been hurting.

There had been literally nothing he could say to make it better, no jokes to tell, no classic witty remarks… but he'd been there, and that was what had mattered most. Once again, there was nothing to be done but stand there together and hope that his presence alone could make a difference.

He'd thought his being there for her all those times had made a difference. Maybe it had, and maybe it hadn't. But then again, he'd also thought they were friends, and look how things had gone between them.

_Let it go, Holder, _he reminded himself. _You can't start thinking like that again. There's no changing the past._ Besides, he wouldn't change the things he'd done for her, even if he was given the chance. He just wished for the thousandth time that it could have all gone differently.

The truth was that he hadn't always been a good friend to her – she hadn't always been an easy one to get along with! – but he could honestly say he'd done his best. He marveled over the fact that there had always seemed to be some kind of understanding between the two of them. _Almost_ without exception, only one of them lost their mind at a time. That way, they always had someone to lean on.

Holder stood up and stretched. Time to get home. Whatever Little Man was up to, only time would tell. All he knew was, there had been a whole lot of years that he hadn't had the chance to be there for Linden, and he didn't like it. He has pretty sure she hadn't let anyone else in in his place, and that made him truly sad for her.

_Take your own advice and take it one day at a time, _he reminded himself. _After all, you never know._


	13. I Can Do This

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

It felt strange to Linden to drive back into Seattle. There's something to be said for returning to a place where you lived for so many years after having been away from it for a significant amount of time. Things are the same, but they're different. It all looks familiar, but at the same time, the fact that it looks familiar feels strange. You wonder about what has changed that you can't see. Or if something big has changed, and you just don't notice.

_It's not complicated._

She hadn't quite figured out how or where to approach Holder. Getting to Seattle was the easy part. Now she was here, to finally see him – not just in her mind, but in person – after all this time. But how? Where? When? She didn't want to call him first. She wasn't sure how she'd do over the phone. No, she needed to see him face to face. The phone had always just been for relaying information back and forth between them. That was all they needed it for, since they had almost always been together.

_Together. In that stupid, smelly car, mostly._

So, that left only a few choices. Jack had just happened to include information about where Holder was now working when they had last talked. Damn, but that kid was sneaky! She hadn't reacted to the information, or told him about her plan, but either he had suspected her next move, or he just had a lot of hope. Jack had also mentioned that Holder had moved to a different apartment in the same building. A 2 bedroom place, now that his daughter was in the picture. This was helpful to know.

So, since she probably wasn't going to run into him on the street, she could choose to show up at his apartment building or his new job. There were possible complications with both options, and it was a hard decision.

_Yes, it's time to finally do this. Come on, Sarah, __**it's not complicated**__. It's OK to be scared, but you're brave, remember?_

It had been mid-day when she arrived in Seattle, so after wrestling with the decision for a few hours (she wasn't sure quite how many hours had gone by) she decided that if she wanted to make this happen today (_TODAY? Could she really do this?)_, his apartment was the best option. She knew where the building was, and she had the new apartment number. It almost seemed too easy.

_Let's not get ahead of ourselves_, said the little voice in her head. _Nothing is ever easy, remember? Not for you._

_But it's not complicated. It's not easy, but it's not complicated._ It was as though she had a cheerleader in her own head, repeating the same sentence over and over.

She drove around the block and noticed that his car was parked nearby. OK, so far so good. She parked on what she was pretty sure was the opposite side of the building from his apartment. No sense in being noticed before she even got there. She was relieved (and a little concerned) to see that even five years later, the latch on the front door of the building was still broken, so she could walk in without being let in. After double checking the apartment number that Jack had given her, she found it easily on the fourth floor, down the hall and around the corner from the elevator. The all too familiar feeling of panic suddenly rose inside of her. The closer she got to the door, she slower she moved, focusing on taking deep breaths.

_Was this the right way to do it? _

_Should she have called first, after all? _

_Why was this so HARD?_

_It's not complicated. It's not complicated. It's not complicated._

_But… What if he wasn't alone in there?_

She was already in front of the door when she had that last thought. She hadn't knocked yet, but in another three seconds she would have. She froze on the spot, her hand in mid-air. She had definitely not thought this through carefully enough. It must have been her impatience getting the best of her, because there were 29 different ways this could go wrong, if not more.

Without hesitating for a single second, she turned around and almost _ran_ down the hallway and back around the corner, into the elevator, then out the front door and back to her car. She couldn't bear a repeat of the Valentine's Day she had worked late and missed the last ferry to Vashon Island, not even realizing it was Valentine's Day, then shown up at his place – only to discover that Caroline was there as well. To make matters worse, Holder had _forgotten_ that it was Valentine's Day, and then to top it all off, they had been called in to work. The whole thing had been awkward as hell.

Sarah started driving, and ended up at one of the same run down motels where she'd stayed with Jack all those years ago, after her failed attempts to move to Sonoma. It was familiar, though not necessarily in a good way, but it didn't matter. She just needed somewhere to regroup.

Twenty minutes after arriving at the motel, she was still sitting in the car. There was no rush. She had nowhere to be until the following day.

_It's like a pattern with you, you know that? You always leaving, running, never stay… Cause if you did, then you'd __**want**__ it. You'd __**need**__ it. And then you could get hurt. And left. And not left. What the hell happened to you, Linden? Why you always taking off?_

_We never stay, and in the end we lose everyone._

She sighed loudly, wondering how he'd implanted himself so firmly in her head. It was like the longer she went without talking to him, the louder his voice in her head became.

_I'm not going to lose this time. I'm not. It's not too late, _she told herself.

She wasn't giving up. It wasn't like before. She was going to prove to Holder that this time, she wasn't going to run. Better yet, she was going to prove it to _herself_.

_It's not complicated._

She'd have to try again outside his work the next day.

_I can do this._

_It's not complicated._

…

It was a Tuesday, and that's all Holder needed to explain the day he was having. It had been long and frustrating, though nothing out of the ordinary had happened to make it so. It was just the nature of Tuesdays.

He was falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV, and decided he may as well get himself ready for bed. The sooner he went to bed, the sooner Tuesday would be over. Wednesdays were always better.

The remote control for the TV had fallen down beside the couch, and it took him a minute to find it. He pressed the button to turn off the TV, and tossed the remote back down on the couch. Pulling himself up with a tired groan, he stretched and yawned. _Definitely time to get some sleep_. Sleep was something he was getting a lot more of these days than he had as a cop, though that wasn't saying much. He had sometimes gone for days on end without sleeping when he had been partners with Linden.

_Linden._

He couldn't explain what made him walk slowly to the door and peer through the peep hole just then. He just had a feeling. There was no sign of anyone or anything out of the ordinary through the fish-eye view of the peep hole. Quietly, he opened his door and looked up and down the hall. There was no sign of anyone, only the dinging of the elevator around the corner, just out of sight.

_Hmmm, _he thought. _Weird. _There was a faint scent in the air outside his door that he couldn't identify. It smelled the only the slightest bit different than usual. For some reason, it made him think of –

_That's impossible, _he thought. _It's absolutely crazy._ _I must be a lot more tired than I thought._

He closed his door again, and turned around to face his empty apartment. The memory came out of nowhere as he turned to face the couch where they'd sat that night, back in his old apartment. It was as though he was watching it happen again, before his eyes.

_I'm sorry, _he had told her, sitting beside her, grief stricken over their discovery of Bullet's body. He had tried to kiss her, and of course, she had deflected it_._

_It doesn't matter,_ she had said._ It's gonna be OK._

_OK for who?_ he wondered now. _Was this supposed to be the OK part?_

She hadn't known how to help him any more than he'd ever known how to help her. But she'd been there, despite how much emotional outbursts had always scared her.

Holder shook his head and sighed tiredly, walking down the hall towards a good night's sleep. At least Tuesday was almost over.

_One day at a time, _he told himself. _Have faith._


	14. Should Have Known

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

The next day felt like a year. Sarah resigned herself to the fact that she probably wouldn't have a chance to see him until later in the day, but she wasn't sure what time he was working. She decided it didn't matter, she could sit outside and wait for him all day, if that was what it took. After all, she was there for one reason and one reason only.

Sitting in her car in the motel parking lot, she retrieved Jack's card from her pocket. She reread it several times, letting his words wash over her. _Could it really be so simple?_

_You need to let someone in. _

_If you're not scared, you can't be brave. And you're the bravest person I know._

_You were happy when you worked with Holder._

_Not everyone is going to leave. _

_And I know you're thinking that it's complicated._

_BUT IT'S _**NOT**_. _

Finally, she took a deep breath, returned the card to her pocket, and started the car.

Linden had been sitting on the bench, waiting for Holder to come out of the building where he now led NA meetings, for the past thirty minutes. Or maybe it had been three hours. She was so anxious, she couldn't judge time properly. She didn't bother checking her watch. The time didn't matter anyway.

She was simultaneously excited and terrified.

_Maybe you wanna count to ten or something? _When he'd asked her that so long ago, she hadn't been so good at counting to ten, or calming down. She still wasn't good at it, but she counted to ten now, and it did help a little.

_It's not complicated._

_Not everyone is going to leave._

She knew there was no reason in the world to be scared. Holder was the last person she should be afraid of. But it had been five years that she hadn't seen or talked to him. Besides, she didn't know how he'd react after all this time. Would he still be angry?

Holder came out of the back door of the church and started down the stairs without looking up. When he did, his surprise showed on his face.

_She's here… _He couldn't wrap his mind around what he was seeing in front of him. He wasn't dreaming, he was sure. _Little Man had something to do with this_.

Linden was relieved. The last time she'd seen him, she'd pointed a gun at him. Time changes things, sure, but that had been a major betrayal. And yet there he was, and he looked happy to see her.

"Oh snap! 1-900-LINDEN. Dial and you shall receive." Linden laughed at Holder's familiar joke, which she hadn't heard for the past five years.

_She laughed. That's a good sign! But damn, she looks nervous._

"Hi… Hi Holder."

_Please words, don't fail me now. This is important._

"What up, Linden?"

_She's here. She's actually here._

"I heard you got a new job."

_The past five years have been good to him._

"I see you got a new scarf."

_There's something different about her. She looks more at peace than last time I saw her._

"Yeah, Ross Dress for Less 3 for 1 rack."

_A joke! That's definitely a good sign!_

"Oh snap! Linden's got jokes?"

_This feels so right, standing here joking with him. I feel like it was only yesterday…_

They paused, just smiling at each other.

"You're lookin' good."

"You too. You look _happy_."

"Happy, joyous and free, that's me." He paused, and they just kept looking at each other. "I'm a daddy. Got a little girl."

_It's so good to see him so happy._

"That's so great. What's her name?"

"Kahlia."

"Awhhh, that's great."

"It's the Goddess of Life and Death in the Hindustani tradition."

"Oh so you're Hindu now?"

"You know how we do."

Sarah exhaled and breathed a little easier. _Same old Holder. Maybe it would be OK after all._

They paused again, still just looking at each other and smiling.

She felt her nerves return, ever so slightly. _What do we say now?_

_Well, I might as well ask._

"So why'd you come back?" Holder got right to the point. 

"I'm not back. I'm just passing through. I've been on the road a lot, the last few years. Umm, I was in Chicago for a while. Jack's in college now. He's almost as tall as you."

_Where did that come from?_ _Just passing through?_ _Am I? _She hadn't thought any farther ahead than here and now… The words had just come out, though the part about being on the road was true. She really had only thought ahead to this moment. But it was better to say that. Who knew what Holder was thinking? He might not want her around…

"What? Damn!" There was another pause. "So did you find him on your travels in the big wide world, Linden? The bad guy?"

_I remember when we talked about this. About The Bad Guy._

"There is no bad guy. There's just, I dunno, life."

_I'm so glad you're here, Linden._

"We tried at least. You gotta give us credit for trying."

"Yeah, we did." Yet another pause. "Anyway, I just, umm… it's good to see you, Holder."

Linden was at a loss. _After all this time, how can I say everything I want to say, when I don't even know what exactly it is that I want to say? _

She stared into his eyes intently and hoped that if she did so intensely enough, she wouldn't have to say anything – he would just know. It seemed to her that many things between them had been said without words over the years.

"So why're you here? For real. Hmm?"

_I asked him that when he came to Vashon to see me_, she remembered. _When he came to lure me back to work with that case file, when I was hiding. How is it possible that we know each other so well? _

_And why __**am**__ I here? How can I explain it?_

He was genuinely curious to find out why she was there. Happy, of course, but what had brought her back now, after five years? It couldn't have been solely whatever Little Man did. Linden loved her son like crazy, but she was stubborn as hell, and she wouldn't be back here if she hadn't decided she was good and ready. He was also curious about the Hail Mary that Little Man had referred to. He'd have to ask one or both of them about that someday.

She exhaled and began slowly. "I never had a real house to grow up in, you know, a home? And I never belonged anywhere. And all my life I was looking for that, THING, you know, thinking that it was out there somewhere, and all I had to do was find it." She paused nervously, but willed herself to go on. "But I think maybe, that home was us. It was you and me, together in the stupid car." She laughed. "Riding around, smoking cigarettes, I think that was everything."

She stopped, but he knew she wasn't finished, so he waited patiently, already so impressed with what she'd just said. He knew how hard for it had been for her to say even just that much.

_She's come so far. I wonder if she knows it._

_It's not complicated, Sarah. Just say it._

"I'm _sorry_." As she said it, her voice cracked.

His heart broke a little bit just then. He knew her well enough to know the amount of pain she had carried around with her for her entire life, and it would have been enough to break most people. The fact that he had done something, even inadvertently and five years ago, to increase her burden was almost too much for him. More than anything, he suddenly wanted to hold onto her and somehow make it all OK, but he knew doing anything of the sort would spook her.

So he just smiled and shook his head, hoping that she could see from that small gesture that there was no bitterness left in him. The fact that _she_ was apologizing to _him_, when he felt that _he_ should be apologizing to _her_, made him feel even worse. Sarah Linden did not do emotions easily, and he could only imagine how difficult this conversation was for her.

_God, this is hard,_ she thought. _It's not complicated. It's not complicated, _she reminded herself.

"I should have known that you were one person who _always_ stays. I mean, you were my best friend."

_At least she knows now_, he thought._ I couldn't make her see it back then – everything we were going through was just too much – but at least she sees it now. But is it enough? It's worth a shot. Here goes nothing._

"Why don't you stay? _Stay_." At first he was asking, but the second time it felt more like pleading. He would've done almost _anything _to get her to stay.

Holder knew that with Linden, he had to keep it short and simple. Besides, those were the only five words he could get out just then. He wanted to say more, but even if he could have, he knew that she'd be overwhelmed by it. He knew that there was **nothing** he could say to make her stay if she decided to run again. Saying more, or doing more… that would only make it worse.

It was all he could do to maintain the space between them, because he was fighting the increasing urge to hold onto her and not let go. But he knew that that would probably send her running in the other direction, so he held his ground. He didn't take his eyes off of her face though, trying to impart how seriously he meant what little he _had _said by not breaking eye contact.

In her head, her mind was already screaming, no, _shrieking_, for her to run. And yet, for once, though she could hear the voice, she didn't let it control her. It was as if that voice was coming from far away, instead of being right in her ear, and she could almost shut it out. This time, she would be the one in control, she told herself.

Besides, she _wanted_ to talk to him. No, she _needed _to talk to him. That was what she'd come here for, what she'd wanted for five years, though she had never been able to admit it to herself. She wasn't really sure what else she'd come here for beyond that, only that she had seen him literally everywhere she had run to… no matter how she had tried not to, no matter how she'd tried to tell herself that they were both better off without the chaos and destruction that seemed to follow her everywhere. And this wasn't just anyone, this was _Holder_. The only person who had ever seemed to get her. The only real friend she'd ever had.

_I can do this_, she repeated over and over in her head.

_It's not complicated. It's not complicated. _

_NOT EVERYONE LEAVES._

Still, she felt panic rising in her. It was easier to make excuses.

"Umm, I think that this city's a city of the dead for me." 

"It's a matter of perception, ain't it? Close your eyes." _I know it's a long shot. But I have to try._

"What?"

"Just close your eyes." _Come on, Linden. Give me a chance._

"No! You're so weird." _What's he doing? I want to, but…_

"Just close your eyes. Give it a try. Maybe you'll see what's really there. What's standing right in front of you. It ain't ghosts, Linden. It ain't the dead." _It's me. I've been here all along._

_I'm sorry, Holder. I want to, but I can't._

She knew that he was asking her to trust him. She wasn't sure exactly what he planned to do if she closed her eyes, and it wasn't that she _didn't_ trust him… On the contrary, she trusted him with her life. He had saved her life, both physically and emotionally, on many occasions. But somehow she got the feeling that was what he was asking her to trust him with more than her life. She wanted to, but she just… couldn't. Not right now.

Her resolve about this whole situation was beginning to weaken. Maybe she _couldn't_ do this. Maybe Jack was wrong, and it _was_ too complicated. He was still just a kid, after all. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here… As much as she desperately wanted to believe that this was where she belonged – here with Holder – maybe she only believed it because she _wanted to_ believe it. She felt the panic rising, but this time she couldn't fight it any longer.

Dammit, she'd promised herself that she would be stronger than this. She _**knew**_ that it really wasn't him she was running from, but herself. She had tried that for five years, and it hadn't worked.

_I'm shaking. Can he see it too?_

"I'm gonna get a ticket, I should go…" She tried to walk around him, but he moved in front of her at the same time.

_Last chance… say something! _But the words failed him. After all, he knew that nothing he could say would stop her.

"Linden..."

_Please… don't run again, _he thought.

"Yeah?"

_I can't do this… _She wanted to, but she just couldn't.

They paused, just looking at each other.

Holder was sure he had pushed too hard, said something wrong. He could see the panic suddenly appear in her eyes, and he knew what was coming._ She's going to run. I just want to make it all better for her, but I know her, so I know that I can't. I can hear the wheels in her head turning._

Though he wished he could convince her to stay, he resigned himself to the fact that she would leave. Again. He looked deep into her eyes, trying to tell her everything that he knew he wouldn't get the chance to say.

"Bye." Holder hated to say it.

_Please… _he begged her in his mind, _don't leave. Not again._

They stared at each other for another moment, with so much between them that still needed to be said, and neither one knowing where, or how, to begin.

"Bye." This wasn't what she wanted. Not at all. In her mind, she added, _I wish I wasn't so bad at this. I'm sorry that I'm not strong enough._

_But__** why**__ am I saying goodbye at all? I don't want to! _It was as though her mouth and her brain were operating independently of each other, and her mouth had gone rogue.

Then he couldn't hold it in any longer and he hugged her tightly. It was the kind of hug that hurt his heart, because he knew that she would run as soon as he let go of her. Having her in his arms for those few seconds felt where they should have ended up. Not saying goodbye.

_Is it for good this time? Please don't let it be._ He wasn't sure he could do this.

He let go of her only reluctantly, and just like he'd known she would, she walked away. He watched as she got in her car and drove off.

_Why am I doing this? Why am I running? It wasn't supposed to be complicated! _She glanced at him in the rear view mirror, standing in the street and watching her go. She had to force her eyes back to the road, and she gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to make herself stop shaking.

Holder walked slowly across the road, still hoping against hope that she'd change her mind, that she'd turn around. He stood in the middle of that road and watched her go. He let out a heavy sigh when the car rounded the corner and he lost sight of it.

It had been five years since she had left the last time. Five years ago he'd been so angry, it had been easier to push her out of his mind. A clean break, for the best, etc etc.

This time… he shook his head sadly. This time hurt. He remembered that the ten minute break he had given his NA group was now over so he headed back inside, grateful for the distraction.

_Come on, Linden. It's not complicated._

He wanted to tell himself to have faith, but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to say it.


	15. Not Complicated

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

As Linden drove farther and farther away from the only place she really wanted to be, she felt more and more conflicted.

_Why am I doing this? _her insides were screaming. _I don't want to run!_ She wanted desperately to _stop_ running. It was what she'd wanted all along! No one would actually _want_ to live like this.

_So what's the problem? Just turn around and go back!_

She couldn't believe she had just driven away from him, _again_, after he had actually _asked_ her to stay. The look on his face had said so much more than those five words that he had said.

_Why don't you stay? Stay. _She repeated the scene in her head, hearing the words, seeing his face.

She might have been wrong, but she had felt like he had been trying to look all way inside her. And while that was yet another thing that scared her, out of all the people she had ever known, he was the only one who might actually have been able to have done it.

_But it's too complicated._

She felt like she was falling apart, losing her mind even more than she ever had before. More than during the Seward case that landed her in the psych ward, more than the Larsen case, the Pied Piper case, or any of the mess with Skinner. Still, she didn't let tears come. She willed them not to, as she drove on, wondering all the while how long she would be able to hold them back before she would finally burst. It was coming, she could feel it.

Breathing unevenly, she navigated through the city streets and out of town, to the outskirts where she could get a good look at the skyline. She'd always loved it out here, and she needed a quiet place to think – if she could quiet her racing mind enough, that is. Looking out over the water at the city from far away, she suddenly realized why she liked the view so much… it was because it was beautiful, of course, but mainly because she was on the outside, looking in. The daily life of the city and its people were there, but they were a safe distance away… the perfect metaphor for her life, for how she always kept herself at a distance from people, and from life. She suddenly realized that she was hiding again, like she always had.

Finally, it was just too much.

She sank to her knees where she stood, and finally, _finally_, let the tears come. Once the dam was opened, it was like she was crying for every heartache she had ever been through, and there had been _many_. She collapsed forwards, her face on her forearms against the ground, her tears uncontrollable.

_It's too complicated. I just… CAN'T._

For a while it felt like the tears would never stop. She wasn't sure how long she was there, hunched over in the grass. But eventually, her tears did stop.

Sarah felt exhausted, but she also found that she felt relieved. She sat up slowly, brushing grass off of her, and pulled herself wearily to her feet. Her back was sore from leaning forward for so long, and her face felt puffy from crying. Standing there, though, she felt numb to physical discomfort. Mentally, she was overwhelmed. Her relief at having finally let so much pain go left her feeling somehow lighter.

But what was she supposed to do now?

The view was still breathtaking, and she felt like she was seeing it for the first time. Breathing deeply, she trying to expel the negative and inhale something new. _I'm no good at this_, she thought nervously. _I don't know how to be a person who doesn't carry their whole life's worth of baggage around with them._

_It's not complicated. _

There as that voice again. _It's not easy, but it's not complicated._

She stared out at the skyline in the distance and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

_Not everyone leaves. _

She wanted to believe it, but to do so was the thing that scared her most of all. She had never let anyone in, because that way they couldn't leave her - like the important people in her life had done so long ago. That was the only way she knew how to keep herself safe.

_No one is going to find you here, literally or figuratively, unless you let them. If you don't take the risk, none of this will __**ever**__ get better_, her inner voice reminded her.

This remote place, just like the running she had done for the past five years, had kept her "safe" from connecting with people – but at what cost? She had only just realized that she wanted to be found – hadn't Holder said something like that a very long time ago? Yes, they'd been sitting in the car, as usual. He'd said, "Sometimes I think you just run away just so someone'll come looking for you." It had been a general "you," but at the same time, he'd been talking about her. Had he known? _Probably_, she thought. He seemed to have figured a lot of things out about her a long time before she had.

But if she really wanted someone to look for her, she couldn't disappear completely, which was what she'd done. That meant that she would have to go back on her own. She had run far enough that even Holder wasn't going to – no, had never been **able** to – follow her.

_He would have followed you, if you had ever given him the chance._ She knew it was the truth, and she hung her head. She had been so unfair to him.

_But what if..._ She felt her pulse quickening just with the thought, though it wasn't even a complete sentence, and took long, slow breaths to calm her rising heart rate.

_What if WHAT, Sarah? _her inner voice asked, suddenly very frustrated at her own attempts to sabotage herself. _What if you end up alone? Because in case you didn't notice, you're alone now! If you give him a chance and he walks away from you, which you __**know **__deep down isn't going to happen, then at least you know you __**tried**__._

She was furious with herself for putting up such a fight. It needed to stop.

_How long are you going to do this? _she continued in her head. _Are you going to run for the rest of your life? Because if you __**ever**__ plan to stop running, this is the time to do it. There is actually someone who cares about you. No matter WHAT questions and excuses you can come up with, you know it's true. You don't want to admit it, but you already __**know**__ it… he won't leave. Don't be so goddamn stubborn. _

_It's scary, yes, but it's __**not**__ complicated._

She knew that she was right, the voice of reason in her head, but still she fought it.

_NOT EVERYONE LEAVES_, her rational self continued loudly inside her head.It was as if she was screaming at herself, trying to get the message through the years' worth of protective walls that she had built.

_Yes, of course you're scared. But he's proven to you so many times that he's not going anywhere! You didn't even notice it back then, you were so busy putting your energy into pushing him away. But really, really think back to all the times when he could have left, and he didn't. He could have told them that you shot Skinner, for God's sake, __**but he didn't.**__ He went out of his way to show you that he wasn't leaving, you just chose not to see it. _

_This – whatever it is that you're doing to yourself - it has to stop! Because now you __**do **__see it. And because eventually, if you wait long enough, he __**won't**__ be there anymore, and then you really __**will**__ be alone. Is that what you really __**want**__?_

Just this conversation, almost an argument, with herself, left her feeling defeated and drained, and she dropped back down in the grass, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees. She gulped in the cool air, and slowly the feeling of panic, of suffocating, went away.

_It's so hard. All of it. Why does it have to be so hard?_

She looked up then, cleared her mind, and just concentrated on the skyline. Her city. She'd criss-crossed the country again and again, but no other city had felt like home. But it wasn't the _city_ that made it feel like home.

_I was right, before… when I told him "Home was us_," she thought with sudden clarity. How in the world had she never seen it before?

_Maybe it's __**not**__ complicated._

All at once it was just that simple – everything else was just noise. She sat a while longer, taking slow, deep breaths, and suddenly feeling lighter than she had in as long as she could remember. It was as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her. She knew what she was going to do. It wouldn't be easy, by any means, but there was only one choice.

_What do you know? It's really __**not **__complicated._


	16. Not Everyone Leaves

****This story was my first ever fanfic, in fall 2014. I did a MAJOR revision in January 2016, so even if you're read it before, you may want to start again with chapter 1. I promise it's now significantly better.****

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Watch the series finale before reading this!

_A/N: This chapter made __**me**__ cry, even though I'm the one who wrote it. Just sayin. :)_

Holder made it through the rest of his NA meeting. It wasn't easy, but he held himself together. He was thankful for the distraction, actually, because he knew that once the meeting ended, he would have to face a reality that he wasn't going to like. After the meeting, he stayed and chatted with the other group members as they got ready to leave, and all too soon, everyone was gone. He cleaned up the room, folded up the chairs, but eventually there was nothing left to be done. Postponing the inevitable wasn't going to change anything, he knew. He was going to have to face what was waiting for him outside, or rather, face what - _who - _was **not **waiting for him outside. He had to face the fact that she had come and gone.

_Have faith_, he told himself, but this time it sounded hollow even in his own head. He knew that there was nothing he could do to change it, and usually that thought helped him let go of his frustrations. This time, however, the thought just left him with a dull ache in his chest. It figured… it _was _Tuesday, after all. He couldn't remember one that had been this bad, though.

He grabbed his keys, clutching them a little too tightly in his hand, then exited the same door he had come out earlier, when she'd been waiting for him. He locked the door behind him, dreading the moment when he would have to turn around and see the empty space where she had been only a few hours before.

_You've done it a thousand times before_, he reminded himself. _You'll get through it. _

When he finally did turn around and look up, he couldn't believe his eyes. There she was again, this time sitting in her car across the street. He let go of a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding and he said a silent "thank you" – to God or Buddha or whoever had brought her back. This time, they'd somehow get it right. They had to.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity (it had actually been about five minutes), she saw him come out of the building and lock the door behind him. She was nervous, but not in the same way that she had been earlier that day.

_It's not complicated,_ she reminded herself. It had become her mantra.

She got out of the car and closed the door behind her, then just stood there. Her legs were frozen in place, and she was lucky she could remain standing, but she couldn't convince them to move forward. As he walked down the steps, a look of disbelief on his face, she smiled ever so slightly, watching him walk towards her. She hated that she'd run again, but he didn't seem to be mad. On the contrary, he looked… relieved. As he continued towards her it was as though their eyes were locked on each other, neither one wanting to be the one to break the connection. As if there was a spell that would be broken, and one of them would disappear if they looked away.

It felt to him like it took an eternity to cross the pavement to where she still stood, frozen in place. He didn't dare quicken his pace, for fear of spooking her and making her run again. She looked calmer than she had when she had suddenly taken off before, less hesitant, but Linden had the inner turmoil thing down, this much he knew. There was no telling what was going on in her head. He stopped a few inches in front of her, just as close as he'd been to her earlier.

They were smiling shyly at each other. Suddenly he wondered what they were supposed to do, now that they were in the same space. Things felt… different than all the thousands of hours they'd spent together in the past. Holder decided to speak first, to break the ice. After all, he was good at small talk. "Hey," he said nonchalantly, "You're back."

Linden's eyes darted around nervously, and she blushed a little, but she continued to smile, focusing on the ground for a second before looking back up at him. "Yeah."

_It's not complicated. It's not complicated._

He looked down and noticed that her hands were shaking.

_Just breathe, Linden, _he thought. _It's OK. You're safe._

Holder tried to give her a reassuring smile. Absolutely _not _sure that it was the right thing to do, especially knowing Linden's feelings about physical contact, he decided _what the hell?_ Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached out his right hand slowly, tentatively, toward her left, gently wrapping his fingers around hers.

She'd been smiling at him but feeling more nervous than she could remember being, and then suddenly he had reached for her hand. Alarm bells sounded in her head for about half a second and the smile turned into a look of terror – which Holder thankfully missed, since he wasn't looking at her face. But then suddenly she realized that, no, she wasn't actually panicking. She had expected to feel like bolting, but instead, while still nervous, she felt… what _was _this feeling? Jack's line about needing to have happiness identified for her suddenly floated through her head. Was _that_ what this was? And could she really not recognize happiness?

_God, I'm a basket case, _she thought, the smile on her face just beginning to reappear faintly as she looked down at her hand in his. It was surreal. Was this really happening? She had to remind herself to breathe.

Now he could _feel_ that her hand was shaking. He squeezed it gently, at the same time wondering if it had been a bad idea. When he looked at her, however, she was looking down at their hands with a look that he recognized all too well from her – panic – yet with the faintest hint of a smile forming. He suspected that she was also holding her breath, but he couldn't be sure.

Her eyes came back up to meet his suddenly. Somehow she looked terrified and calm all at the same time. He wanted to ask her if she was ok, but the words seemed to die on his lips. He raised his eyebrows instead, hoping she would understand.

She relaxed slightly, and watched as he looked at her questioningly. The look he was giving her made her think that he was trying to figure out if she was going to punch him or not for taking her hand. The thought made her laugh inside, which made the smile spread across her face. She decided to say her thought out loud.

"Are you trying to figure out if I'm going to punch you for doing that?" she asked teasingly.

Holder transitioned quickly into his trademark grin. "Absolutely, Linden. I mean come on, think about it. How many times have you _wanted _to punch me? I'm thinkin' I'm lucky it's never happened before." His eyes twinkled with laughter, though he kept a straight face.

A chuckle escaped her without permission then, but she nodded as solemnly as she could in agreement. "That's a very good point. I'd be lying if I said there hadn't been _lots _of times when I wanted to punch you, so I guess I can understand your confusion…" Now they were both smiling again, the sudden awkwardness gone at least temporarily.

He looked back down at their hands again, and released his hold on hers just enough to intertwine their fingers, then gave her hand another gentle squeeze.

_It's __**not**__ complicated. It's perfect_, she thought in awe.

She took another deep breath. Her panic was subsiding gradually, but what was before her was still scary. She owed him an explanation.

"Come on, let's get out of the street. We can sit down over there," he said, tugging her gently as he took a step toward the bench across the street that he'd found her waiting on earlier that day. He knew that she wanted to talk – he did too – and he knew that it was going to be hard for her.

She glanced around, having completely forgotten that they were standing in the street at all. The feeling of her hand in his was a little strange, but not unpleasant, and she walked him with to the bench. Once again, she reminded herself to breathe. Her hands were shaking less now. When she glanced at him, she could see how hard he was trying to reassure her.

_Just breathe, Linden, _he thought again. _You can do it. It's just me._

They sat down side by side on the bench, facing the building where Holder worked, but repeatedly stealing glances at each other and then looking away, once again suddenly feeling awkward about the fact that they were still holding hands. Holder wasn't planning to let go of her if it was at all possible. He felt like he needed a tangible way to hold onto her, just in case she tried to run again. She was _not _getting away again if he could help it. He was _not_ letting her go without a fight this time.

They sat in silence for a minute, not knowing where to start. There was so much that both of them wanted to say, and it was overwhelming. Holder had a feeling that Linden wanted to go first, but that she was still working up the courage, so he waited. Hell, he had waited five years already. What was another minute or so? Especially when she was sitting there beside him?

_He deserves an explanation, _she reminded herself. _It's not complicated_. _It's just Holder. Just __**talk**__ to him._

Linden took a deep breath and finally spoke, focusing on their hands, which currently rested together the bench between them. "I… I panicked before. Sorry." She raised her eyes to look at him, and he just smiled and nodded slightly as he had earlier, wanting to encourage her, but not to break her momentum by speaking.

She took another deep breath. _Keep going. You can do it._ She continued, looking down again.

"It's hard to…" she trailed off, her voice breaking slightly. Her breath caught in her throat and she pursed her lips, hazarding a glance up at him, not sure what she expected to see. He nodded sympathetically.

"I know," he whispered, and then squeezed her hand again. The gesture made her smile, but at the same time, she felt dangerously close to crying. _It's much too early for that, _she chided herself. _You've barely said anything! _For some reason, that thought amused her, and she took a deep breath and collected her thoughts, deciding to start with something else, something less emotional.

"The past five years, I've been everywhere. I don't know how much Jack told you… I drove all over the country, back and forth, no plan whatsoever. Just driving. I didn't know if I was running _from_ something, or _to_ something, or what it was, or where it was, or… _who_." She stopped again, took a deep breath, glanced up at him, then quickly looked down again. Her voice became almost a whisper, but she forced herself to continue. The whole time she spoke, she stared at their hands, clasped together.

"Everywhere I went, I saw…" She paused for a second, a little self-conscious about admitting it. "…_you_. Everything made me think of you. Cigarettes, guys in hoodies, vending machines, police cars, Funyuns…" They both smiled at that one. She wanted to stop there, but she knew that she owed it to him to tell him all of it. "…_everything._ I tried so hard to fight it, to tell myself I had to forget, that it was better – that _**you**_ were better off… that if _**I**_ were you…"

The emotion threatened to swallow her for a second, and her eyes closed involuntarily. She kept them closed as the finished, somehow feeling like it was easier if she didn't have to look at him when she said it. "…that if I were you, I never would've forgiven me." She stopped again, her eyes still closed, taking a deep breath and exhaling it raggedly. Another gentle squeeze on her hand reminded her that she didn't have to go there, reliving that feeling again. It was just hard not to.

When she opened her eyes again she wanted to look back up at him, but she found that she was too nervous.

_I'm here,_ he thought, gently stroking the palm of her hand with his thumb.

She continued talking and just kept staring at their hands, soothed by his thumb's movement. "…but… in the end I realized, the person I was running from… was _me_."

Holder watched her carefully, determined to let her finish before he said anything. Once again, he knew all too well how difficult this was for her.

"I just… You know this… I'm not used to having anything good. It's… _scary._" Her voice was starting to break again. He squeezed her hand again, gently, to reassure her.

_You can do it_, she told herself._ He's still here. Not everyone leaves._

_It's OK, Linden._

Shaking her head sadly, she continued. "And when I do, I… I destroy it. Not just destroy it, I demolish it. Smash it to bits and set it on fire. You've seen me do it over and over. I know it must seem like I enjoy it, like I do it on purpose, but I really _don't_." She finally looked up at him again, her smile gone and her eyes shimmering with tears that were threatening to fall any second.

Holder didn't miss a beat. "I know you don't," he whispered, looking straight at her with a sad smile. "And you've watched me do the same thing, Linden, just as many times. And both of us are still here." She nodded and looked off into the distance. He could see how hard she was fighting her inner demons. He paused, because he could anticipate her reaction to his next sentence, but he knew she needed to hear it out loud.

"Hey," he said, and waited until she looked back up at him. He wanted her to see how much he meant it. "Not everyone leaves."

_How does he __**do**__ that? How does he __**know**__?_

He couldn't help but notice how surprised she looked, and he knew he'd struck a sensitive spot.

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and inhaled a shaky breath, exhaling slowly. She hadn't thought she had any tears left after that afternoon, but when she closed her eyes, the ones that had been threatening to spill as she'd spoken now slipped out easily. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her intently. She managed a sad smile.

"I think that's the scariest thing to believe," she whispered.

Holder turned his body completely so that he was facing her, and she turned her head curiously to see what he was doing. Slowly, he leaned down just far enough to rest his forehead on hers.

"You can trust me, Linden. You know that, right?"

_He told me that before, _she remembered suddenly. _Years ago in his apartment during the Rosie Larsen case._ _But really, I should have known it all along, without him ever saying it._

That night that she remembered him telling her that she could trust him, she'd been scared, and had had no one else to turn to. It had been hard for her to believe those words then. Impossible, actually, despite the fact that he was the one person she should have believed. But now? It was easy. She was scared to let go, yes. But she had never felt safer in her life.

She smiled, closed her eyes and leaned forward against his chest, her right ear landing just over his heart, which was thumping loudly. Holder let go of her hand, and put both of his arms around her. He planted a single kiss on the top of her head, then pulled her close and rested his chin on her shoulder, exhaling slowly. He felt her uneven breathing and knew she was probably crying. That was no surprise, because she held everything in. She always had. He just held on tighter.

They sat like that for a while, until she was breathing normally again. Finally Linden leaned back to sit up, and Holder let his arms drop. He took her hand again, needing to keep the connection and reassure himself that she wasn't about to run again, and this time she was the one who squeezed his hand.

It was as if she read his mind. _Say it,_ she told herself. _It's only fair._

"I'm sorry I ran."

Holder shook his head again, the same head shake that had meant _don't apologize _before. "Linden, you're here, that's what matters. It's kinda the only thing that matters, right?" She laughed out loud at him, because now he was tossing _**her**_ words from long ago back at her. Did he remember _everything_ that either of them had ever said to each other?

"Are we recycling _all_ our old conversations today, or what?" she laughed.

"I've had a long time to replay 'em in my head. I got 'em _all_ memorized," he replied proudly, grinning, thankful for a lighter moment.

She smiled at him for a few seconds before her face turned serious again. _Say it_, she told herself. _He deserves to hear it out loud, because you know he's still wondering._

"I think I'm done," she paused for a second and watched as he looked at her, confused. "Running," she added simply, looking straight into his eyes.

He looked back at her thoughtfully, pausing for a second. "Linden, I _know_ you. You may feel like you want to run again sometime, and that's _okay_." Confusion spread across her face, and he smiled at her, squeezing her hand again. "Just tell me where you're goin. Don't just disappear. Hell, let me come with you. Okay?"

There were no words to describe how she felt just then. _This is definitely happiness,_ she thought to herself. _It may be new to me, but this has to be what it's like._ She couldn't help but smile at him then, nodding her head. "Yeah, okay."

"Good," he said, pretending that he was only mildly interested, as though it was no big deal. "I _think_ I could get used to having you round here again. Ya know, if I tried hard enough," he added, as if he had considered it and decided that it would be okay if she stuck around. He kept his face serious for about two seconds, and then the little boy grin emerged again. That time she _did _punch him, playfully, with her free hand.

"Yeah, well, you're my ride so, I guess you're stuck with me," she sighed, shaking her head and looking at him with a gleam in her eye. It was yet another thing that she had told him that years before, but this time she meant it as a promise.

"Good," he said simply.

He saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes once again, but he was pretty sure they were happy tears this time. Still, he had to be sure. "Hey, yo, Linden! What'd I do now?" he asked in mock horror. She knew that he didn't seriously think he'd done something. She marveled again at how he could read her so well.

"Shut _up_, Holder!" she replied emphatically, her face breaking out yet again into a smile and the tears no longer anywhere in sight.

Once again, he said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever in the universe had helped Linden find her way back. She'd had a hell of a journey, but it seemed appropriate. After all, she'd never been one to do things the easy way.

_She's right. This right here – us – it's home_, thought Holder_._

There had never, ever in her life been a time when Sarah Linden felt this happy. She couldn't even have imagined that this feeling existed. After everything she had been through, every horrible thing that had happened to her, every way she had sabotaged her _own_ happiness… Somehow, she had found her way here.

_This is what home feels like,_ she thought in awe_._

And just like that, none of the rest of it mattered at all. Jack had been right after all. It really **wasn't** complicated.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, looking off ahead and glancing back at each other every few seconds but not saying anything. It was a comfortable silence, their hands still clasped together. Slowly, Linden leaned towards him and rested her head against his shoulder. He dropped her hand from his right hand, replacing it quickly with his left, as his now free right hand went around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"Hey Linden…" Holder started, but trailed off, unable to continue. Now _he_ was the one at a loss for words.

Sarah smiled. "I know, Holder. Me too."

They sat like that for a while, and before they realized it, darkness had fallen and the streetlights were bright overhead.

"We're gonna have to go, 'less you wanna stay here all night," he told her with a yawn.

"I know," she replied reluctantly, but didn't move.

"C'mon," he said, letting go of her so that he could stand up, then quickly reaching for her hand again, tugging gently until she followed his lead. "Besides, I happen to know for a fact that you haven't eaten today. Gotta get you into some better eating habits."

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You know that for a fact, huh?"

"Am I _wrong?_"he asked her as he raised his eyebrows slightly.

"No, of course not," she grinned in slight embarrassment as they walked to her car. "I guess I have no choice, then."

"And don't you _forget_ it!"

_Same old Holder, _she thought with a smile, tossing him the keys to her car.

He caught the keys that were unexpectedly flying towards him in mid-air, a look of pretend shock on his face. "_I_ get to drive?"

"Sure, why not? I'm not running off anywhere." There was laughter in her eyes as they stepped onto the sidewalk, and Holder opened the passenger side door for her, but stood still in front of her, still holding her hand. Slowly, he lifted their intertwined hands and turned them until her hand was facing him, then slowly lifted it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss in the center of the back of her hand. With his other arm, he reached around and pulled her into a one armed hug, her head landing on his shoulder.

"Wait a second, you promised me food!" Linden exclaimed, pretending to try to push herself free of his grip.

He let her go, still holding her hand, shaking his head and pretending to be offended. "You're _impossible," _he told her in mock annoyance.

"I _am_," she agreed, looking exceptionally pleased with herself. "But so are you. Now let's get out of here!" She squeezed his hand gently, then let go of it and climbed into the car. He shook his head, closing the door after her and walking around to the driver's side.

Wednesday was his new favorite day.

They both knew that their pasts would still haunt them, and that even together, there were plenty of demons left to fight. But _**finally**_, it really wasn't complicated, because they weren't alone anymore.

Jack looked up from studying when he heard a familiar beep from his phone, the one that told him that he had a text. He smiled when he saw that it was from his mom. She so rarely texted him, and he opened it with great interest. He hadn't heard from her or from Holder since he had texted Holder the previous week…

_You were right, Jack. It's not complicated. Thanks for reminding me. I love you._

He smiled broadly. _Finally_, he thought, his eyes watering just a little. _Finally, she can stop running._

**_A/N_**_: It's funny, after revising and rewriting most of this story, I'm sad to come to the end of it all over again! :) It was a lot of fun to write this back in 2014, and it was fun to go back through it and make it even better almost a year and a half later.__ I know it was a little bit cheesy, especially towards the end, but I felt like these two kinda deserved a cheesy happy ending after everything the characters had been through. I hope that you enjoyed it._

_***If you're reading this as the later part of You're My Ride, I'm going to add one more chapter that comes after this one chronologically. It won't be added here (to the Running thread), so you'll have to look for it back on the You're My Ride thread. (I hope that's not too confusing.) I just wanted Running to fit inside You're My Ride, if that makes sense. If you haven't read You're My Ride, there's a LOT of Linden and Holder left for you to discover, if you're interested. Either way, thank you for reading this!_


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